


Radio Check

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Series: Truckers Verse [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bigotry & Prejudice, Childbirth, Established Relationship, M/M, Mates, Mood Swings, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Politics, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Void Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-01-23 02:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21312592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: Derek is secure in his knowledge that Stiles will make time for him and their little baby despite his career in politics. Despite his constant challenges as an alpha, the new Congressman Stilinski handles it all with cheer and sarcasm. Their world looks like it will be dull now, filled with diapers and political bills, but the new president quickly makes waves. With an insane Alpha in office, Stiles has to fight for the safety of Derek and all omegas in the country.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Truckers Verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/715572
Comments: 76
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

Okay. So I'm having a tough time of things as a writer. My last two stories posted did NOT go over well, and it has prevented me from writing for a bit. The Venom one didn't generate interest, and apparently I did a shit job relaying things in Holding On because people had a LOT of complaints. I blame myself for that. I should have written parts in Derek's POV as well so people knew what the fuck was going on with him instead of just assuming they'd pick up on the hints dropped from Stiles' POV. It made him look like a real asshole when I had justifications for his actions spread throughout the story. Just too damn vague. That's on me. I was going to re-write it, but it's out there already so that's a lost cause.   
  
So I took some time to think it over and I decided to break my usual pattern and post in chapter chunks instead of posting a full story. The reason is because I'm having trouble continuing. I hate to beg for comments like a newb, but I need a bit of encouragement here or I'm just NEVER going to get this damn story finished. This is the second to last part of this series and I want it to be completed! So, yeah. Please be kind. 

Derek breathed out slowly as he stared down at the dinner tray. He wasn't good at this. He'd spent his formative years as an omega, but he'd been used and discarded by alpha after alpha. He hadn't _hated_ being a sex worker. It had certainly been satisfying, but he'd never had a chance to be an omega in a _relationship _before he'd become an alpha in one. And now he was an omega in one. And had gotten pregnant fast. So he was currently a cranky omega in a relationship, who was uncomfortable with his body and had _no_ idea how to keep his _incredibly _busy politician husband happy. At least the 'where are we living' issue was solved, if not the 'when do we see each other' one. Derek lived with Stiles. Period. He was pregnant and an omega, there was _no _working right now. His trucking business was in Malia's hands until the baby was born, and she was doing well. She called him regularly so he still felt connected to it.

“Get it together, Derek,” He whispered to himself, picking up the tray and heading into the office.

Derek passed the security guard with a quick nod, juggled the door, and headed inside to give Stiles a small smile. His head was down and he was deeply engrossed in reading a proposed bill. He was chewing on his bottom lip. As was common since he'd gotten himself up the duff, Derek had a sudden wave of arousal hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd love to climb under the desk and suck Stiles off while he worked, but he knew enough about politics to know that _someone would_ find out _somehow_ and Stiles couldn't afford another scandal.

“I brought you dinner,” Derek spoke up, making Stiles jump.

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed, “I didn't even hear the door. I'm gonna put a bell on you, Der. Dinner? Serious? You're amazing and I'm starved.”

“I want to help where I can,” Derek smiled softly.

“You're making a baby,” Stiles motioned him closer and reached out to touch the now-massive bulge of his belly, “That's already a full-time job. The doctor said to take it easy. Just because you're a muscle man doesn't mean you aren't going to be worn out at this point.”

“I know, but not working just doesn't sit right with me.”

“I get that,” Stiles smiled up at him, eyes full of love and reassurance, “And I'm fully omeganist, but you _really_ do have an excuse, okay? Take it easy. When the baby is born and you're fully healed up you'll have the energy to do more. Think of this as a sick day, okay?”

“You mean sick _month_. Maybe even two months,” Derek sighed, “I want to get back to _actually_ working at some point. I cleaned, though.”

“Mm, nesting,” Stiles' eyelids went heavy and Derek knew he was thinking the same thing he had when he'd first walked in.

“Yep,” Derek popped the p, “So when you get home...”

Stiles groaned and turned back to the bill, “In, like, three days.”

Derek sighed, “Goodnight, honey, I'm gonna go jerk off in the shower.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Stiles whimpered miserably.

Derek kissed the top of his head and waddled back out the door. The guard gave him a pitying smile and he nodded acceptance. Well, what did he expect? Stiles wasn't even taking dinner until midnight. Of course, he wasn't coming home.

The plus side of living in a camper was that Derek was always where Stiles was. Stiles spent four days in Washington every week and three in California. The drive out there was far too long to make each week, so they had two campers. The one in Washington was bigger and included their nursery since they had a house in California as well. Cora and Isaac's house, with their little bundle of annoying, was where they _technically_ hung their hats while in Cali, but they were too used to isolation to stay in a big house with other pack members. They had a bathroom they had claimed, a second nursery there for their future spawn, and a storage shed full of random shit that Cora never stopped complaining about. They slept in a very cramped tiny pull along camper in the parking lot and even Isaac thought it was weird, but that's because he was claustrophobic. Stiles joked that he was afraid of _big_ spaces, but Derek knew that wasn't it. It was the illusion of being in a cave and having Derek all to himself that Stiles loved, and for Derek, it was the safety of being alone that he'd gotten used to seeking out during his early years of trauma. Except he wasn't alone anymore. He'd never be alone again, and even though that sounded terrifying he was looking forward to it.

Derek stepped into the camper and the two guards nodded and got up from the kitchen table to leave. For comfort sake, they stayed inside it during the day. They had a van with cots in the back that they kipped in during the night which was parked right next to their camper in the little Virginia camping ground. They were private security. Stiles had public during office hours, but they would check the boys into their home and then leave for the night. Stiles didn't like that. There was _very _little protection in their campground, aside from the fact it was basically a little pack of its own, so Stiles had hired private security guards to hover over Derek while he was pregnant.

“Hey boss,” Liam grinned, “No Stilinski?”

“No Stiles,” Derek sighed, “You guys eat those leftovers?”

“You mean _your portion? _No,” Braeden replied sharply.

“I already ate-”

“And you're going to eat more,” Liam pointed out. He was right. Derek was up to eight meals a day. Granted, they were smaller than usual meals and more spaced out, but still. He'd be hungry sometime around three in the morning, “Night boss.”

“Night,” Derek absently scented Braeden as she left, but left Liam alone. He was Scott's beta and Derek wouldn't dare steal him even though he gave Derek's belly moon eyes and it made his instincts wonky.

Derek puttered around the camper for a bit, uncharacteristically alert for a guy who was eight months pregnant. His back hurt something fierce, so he didn't feel like crawling into the bed in the back even though it was soft as hell. Instead, he set about cleaning up the dishes the guards had left out, sweeping the floor that _never _got clean, and staring longingly into the tiny alcove above the pull station that was baby Talia's 'nursery'. They'd turned the small loft area into a gigantic crib by putting locking doors on all the little built-in storage inside so the baby couldn't go through them all and putt a baby gate on the entrance. The middle part of the gate dropped down instead of swinging open, giving them a wide opening to pull their little one out of her crib. When she was older they'd change the cage-like guard into a simple bumper to keep her from rolling out, and then eventually it would be just a loft bed. For now, she had a full view of the entire camper, minus the bathroom, and if they left the curtains open she could see into their bedroom. She would be able to smell her parents at all times, and Derek had invested in a rolling baby cot that he could put _right_ next to their bed so she could co-sleep if she were particularly clingy. If she took after Stiles, she definitely would be.

Derek knew that they couldn't pack toys in there for safety reasons, but it looked so _empty_. He did have some of the nearest cubbies full of interactive baby toys, but the ones that couldn't be reached easily to the back due to the crib sides were just... empty. It felt wrong. He tried stocking them with extra clothes, but then reaching them became a pain in the ass so he'd moved them to the storage behind the kitchen table. The table would be their little changing area, and he'd found a handy padded changing mat that had sides so he didn't have to worry about her sliding off of it the second he laid her down. They'd put it on the table to change her and drop it under the table when not in use. It had grips on the bottom so it wouldn't slide everywhere.

Derek looked around himself again and tried to find _something _to do. Laundry was done. He'd done it by hand earlier instead of taking it to the laundromat in the campground because he'd been so damn bored. It was hanging out on the line now. His guards would wake up the moment he opened his door thanks to the security alarm they had installed, so if he wanted to annoy the shit out of them he could go for a walk. That sounded awful but also _very _needed. Derek opened the door and saw the flutter of activity from the van. Liam bolted out, fully dressed and focused on Derek. Derek smiled. He had thought having guards _sleep there_ was silly, but it was working well for them.

“I'll buy you breakfast if you walk with me,” Derek offered.

“In, what, two hours?” Liam joked, but stepped out with a flashlight already in hand, “Come on, let's waddle to the duck pond where you'll be in good company.”

Derek chuckled. Stiles always said that and it warmed him to hear the words tonight. They walked slowly through the dark path, the flashlight discarded since neither actually needed it. When the reached the pond Derek took in a deep breath and let out a slow hum of pleasure. He loved the smell of the water, animals, nature, and even all the poo all around him. The crickets were screaming for sex, the owls were softly cooing in the distance, and over the lake, multiple bats fluttered and swooped in the air to catch those horny insects.

“I love this,” Derek breathed, “I thought I'd hate it, but I love it.”

“Being pregnant?”

“No, that's the pits,” Derek laughed, hand moving over his swollen belly, “I meant the campground. It feels like home.”

“I gotta say,” Liam laughed, “As a beta I don't have a _lot _of instincts towards omegas, but the ones I have are freaking out. Like... you're _an omega who is pregnant. _You should be in a fucking mansion.”

“Fuck no,” Derek's eyes widened comically, “I'd bolt. I'd run the fuck away. No way in hell.”

Liam laughed, “I'd like to see you try with that belly!”

“I may not be as nimble as I once was, but I could outrun the hounds if you sent them after me,” Derek challenged, nudging Liam playfully.

Liam shook his head and Derek chortled and then sighed sadly.

“I miss him.”

“You see him more now than you did when you were working,” Liam pointed out.

“Yeah, but-” Derek started and then stopped. He couldn't bear his soul to Liam, even if he did trust him. He was Scott's beta and Scott and Stiles were practically brothers, but Derek needed to talk to his therapist about this.

“Is it the change?” Liam asked gently.

Derek shook his head, “Just some old insecurities. Stiles will kiss them better when... if... he gets home.”

“The vote's this Tuesday?”

“Yeah, thank god,” Derek groaned, rubbing his belly as the baby kicked aggressively, “I'll have him all to myself for a whole night, then a flight, and then half a day before he goes back to his office in Cali.”

“I just hope he gets things done soon,” Liam glanced down at Derek's belly, “You're about to pop.”

“No, I'm not,” Derek snorted, “I'm weeks away.”

“You're nesting harder than ever, have the urge to move, and have been eating less. Early babies happen.”

“Don't you start,” Derek narrowed his eyes at Liam, “I don't need the stress.”

Liam shrugged and Derek sighed as he took stock of his body. Sore. Full. Tense. The baby was moving less and less, although the doctor had deemed her healthy. He wasn't on bed rest, but the doctor had clearly been considering it. Derek's body was recently altered and it was causing complications.

Liam might actually be right.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles was exhausted but glad to finally be at the vote. He'd downed a caffeine pill because a cup of coffee was _not _going to be enough. He still felt tired. He was waiting patiently to give his vote when a secretary with access pushed into the room and headed for him at a fast trot. Stiles' eyes widened in horror. No, no, no, no, it was _too early!_

“Begging your pardon, sir,” The man uttered, “I know you're busy, but apparently the hospital staff can't handle your omega and they're pushing me to bring you a-”

“Is he hurt?”

“No!” The man looked justified in his disgust over breech in protocol now, “That's just it! He's just in labor! I mean, it's what he's meant to-”

Stiles grabbed his briefcase, shoved everything into it, and clicked his mic on, “Pardon the interruption, but I'm afraid I have to go. Please log me in as an absent vote and I will make sure I get it to you on time.”

“What seems to be the problem?” The speaker for the house asked with a frown.

“My mate is in labor and-”

A chuckle, the room obviously amused, before the speaker spoke again, “I realize that this is your first child and the urge to see them is high as a werewolf, but he's only doing what nature-”

Stiles growled, eyes glowing red, “I'm sorry, I thought you stood for family values?”

“Well-”

“Well my family is about to add a new value and I'm going to be there. I can vote absentee. I'm voting absent. _My_ job isn't being compromised, but your hypocrisy is showing.”

Stiles swept out of the room with the stuttering secretary at his heels still arguing that there was no rush, it was just childbirth, omegas did it every year, why was he so anxious?

Stiles ignored him, got in his car, and ordered them to floor it to the hospital. His security guards at least knew him well enough not to question that. They sped there and the cops wouldn't dare pull over a government car so there was no objection. He got to the hospital and Braeden met him at the door.

“He's got Liam in a fucking headlock,” She told him, “Come on, you need to get up there. Now.”

“Complications?” Stiles asked in horror.

“You could say that.”


	3. Chapter 3

Derek was scrubbing the floor again, but in his defense, a tiny space tended to get dirtier faster than a big one. He was using baking soda since he couldn't very well mess with chemicals while pregnant. The chance of Talia being a human was slim to none, but it _could _still happen. Derek felt another cramping pain and stood up with a heavy sigh once he was able to. The pain was getting more intense, and if he wasn't mistaken that one had wrapped all the way around his torso. That meant this wasn't a fake contraction. It was a real one. Liam had been right and Derek was irritated. Stiles was about to step on the floor for a vote and Derek was definitely going to interrupt him. They'd already discussed it. No matter what Stiles was doing short of preventing a war, Derek was going to call him to join him at the hospital.

“Okay,” Derek sighed, leaving the trailer and heading to the car, “Go time.”

“What's going on?” Braeden asked as left the picnic bench where she'd been reading when Derek kicked her out so he could scrub the floors.

“It's go time!” Liam shrieked, leaving the van with a flourish and heading for the car with keys held up like a scepter, “Oh my gosh, where's your bag? Do you need help? BRAEDEN HELP HIM INTO THE CAR!”

“Oh no, he's going to be worse than Stiles,” Braeden realized.

Derek did the only thing his aggravated body could tolerate at that moment. He knocked Liam unconscious.

“Oh no, you're going to be worse than usual!” Braeden groaned, picking him up and dragging him to the car, “I guess I'm driving.”

Derek was trying to squat down to pick up the keys, but his body had decided acrobatics were done for now, so Braeden had to get them. She then held the door as Derek maneuvered into it, walked around, and started driving.

“Isn't this a bit early?”

“Yup,” Derek replied, trying Stiles' cell phone, “Damn, it's off. He must be in session.”

“Try the desk?”

“On it.”

Derek called the secretarial desks' emergency line and the person who picked up was professional and courteous... until he realized why Derek was calling.

“I'm sorry, you're... what?”

“In labor,” Derek replied, “Congressman Stiles Stilinski. Independent. He needs to join us.”

“For your... labor?” The man sounded confused, “I was under the impression you were an omega?”

“Yes?” Derek ground out.

“Well, we only allow members to leave when in session if it's a beta who is in labor. You understand, sweetheart. They have a higher risk of dying while in labor.”

“You have no idea how high your risk of dying while I'm in labor is, do you?” Derek growled out, “Get. Me. My. Mate.”

“Oh, I know,” The jackass crooned, “It's scary, isn't it? You'll be okay, honey. The doctors will take care of you and there's really no risk of rape during a delivery. They have ways to remove your belt and everything, so you don't _need _him right now. His people do.”

“I AM HIS PEOPLE!” Derek raged, “GET ME MY-”

The phone call ended and Derek crushed the phone in his hand into dust.

  
“Mm,” Braeden acknowledged, “That is one dead secretary.”

“I will turn his bones into a mobile for my daughter,” Derek hissed through the pain of a contraction beside her.

“Only if you get to him first. Stiles is going to _kill him_ once he finds out the guy prevented you from having him at your delivery.”

  
“He won't because he'll be to busy coming to the hospital,” Derek replied, “Give me your phone.”

“_Hell_ no.”

“Give me Liam's!”

Liam was alert by now and handed it over himself. Derek called again. And again. And again. Eventually, the call stopped going through. They'd blocked the number.

They reached the hospital and Liam hurried inside while Braeden helped Derek out of the car and into a wheelchair. A flurry of activity and several soothing nurses later and Derek hadn't stopped telling each and every one of them to bring him his mate all the way to the hospital room. When they brought the IV over to him he grabbed the nurse's arm and snarled in her face.

“The patronizing _stops now_,” Derek snarled, “Get me my mate here or I'm leaving.”

“You can't check yourself out, honey,” She smiled softly, “You're just an omega.”

Derek threw her across the room, got up and started heading for the door. Liam argued so Derek put him into a headlock and dragged him bodily out the door.

“What are you doing?!” Liam pleaded as he failed to free himself.

“Taking a hostage,” Derek snarled.

“Holy shit,” A doctor standing by the nurses' station breathed at the sight of Derek huffing and puffing his way down the hallway, “Honey? Honey, where are you going?”

“My name is DEREK!” Derek shouted, “And I'm leaving because no one here will fucking listen to me! I'm going to give birth in my home like the good omega I am!”

“You can't leave, you're in labor.”

“Why not? It's _perfectly natural _for me to spit out a kid a year, isn't it? Harmless! No big fucking deal!”

“You might need a medical intervention!” She pleaded, “Yes, labor is your body's use, but anything could go wrong! And you're early! That's why maternity wards exist!”

Derek grinned coldly and pointed to the phone, “Call the number I give you and tell that to the person who answers.”

Derek didn't release his 'hostage' until Stiles walked into the room with eyes wide and hands shaking.

“Der,” Stiles made grabby hands at him.

Liam gasped for breath and fled to the other side of the room, “Oh my god, I saw my life flash before my eyes!”

“Stiles,” Derek whined, his omega tone creeping into his voice, “They wouldn't listen to me.”

“It's okay, big guy,” Stiles pressed kisses to his knuckles and then sweat-soaked forehead, “It's okay. I'm here. I made it. What's wrong? What's happening?”

“I'm in labor,” Derek pointed out.

“Braeden said there were complications?” Stiles glanced towards her.

She pointed to Liam, “He was being held hostage and Derek's early.”

Stiles huffed, “And they call me a spaz! What's the doctor said?”

“That I'm pushy and disobedient,” Derek replied.

“About you and _the baby!”_ Stiles was getting irritated.

“Oh...” Derek blinked, “They haven't looked at me yet.”

“YOU'RE IN LABOR!” Stiles shrieked, then headed for the door, “WHERE'S THE FUCKING DOCTOR!!”

A few seconds later Derek was being examined by the doctor while a nurse put an IV in his arm and started fluids.

“You're lucky,” She said, “I was worried that with all your to-do that you'd be too far along to get pain medication, but being your first and early labor this is taking a long time. Alpha, are you alright with him receiving pain medication?”

“Why are you asking me?” Stiles scoffed, “It's his asshole a baby is going to tear it's way out of like a-”

“Stiles,” Derek warned, “Leave the _Alien_ references at the door.”

“With you here, I have to ask,” The doctor stated, “It's why we prefer the alphas to _not be here.”_

She said the last to Derek.

“Mine isn't a neanderthal,” Derek replied, “I'm a werewolf so I can't take pain meds.”

The doctor frowned at the nurse who nodded. She was the one holding the chart.

“Seriously?” Stiles scoffed, “You won't even take his word for it on what _species_ he is? I'm a werewolf too, feel free to check my chart to confirm. I'll take his pain. Liam, you good to help?”

“Yeah,” Liam removed his suit jacket and stepped forward, “We got you, big guy.”

“This is highly irregular,” The doctor snapped, “His alpha shouldn't be here. His omega _parent _should be taking his pain!”

“Well, he's been dead for a long time so that would be super weird and unhygenic,” Stiles snapped, “I can do a pain drain. You deliver a baby. We've got this.”

“I want Cora here,” Derek groaned as another wave hit him, “She'd know how to pet my hair.”

“Really?” Stiles snickered, “I can't pet your hair?”

“Not the-” Derek paused to breathe through a contraction and felt a rush of fluids, “Not the right way.”

“That was pretty short,” Stiles frowned.

The doctor nodded, “His water just broke.”

Stiles glanced down to see the nurse removing soaked pads coated in brownish yellow fluids and replacing them and went a bit pale, “Hm. Okay. Der, I'm gonna stay up here and... pet your hair inadequately.”

The second nurse in the room had finished hooking Derek into two heart monitors but it seemed that they wouldn't be on for long. They were headed for active labor at a fast pace. Stiles was conserving his pain drain, letting Liam reduce Derek's discomfort on his own for now. He'd be needed more during actual birth and their labor coach had told him even then not to take _all _of it. Derek needed to feel when to push.

Stiles mostly held his hand and patted his head while whispering encouragement. Derek grumbled sarcastically occasionally, but most of his focus was on breathing and trying to deal with the overwhelming pain. Liam looked devastated that he couldn't take more, but he had to measure it out possibly for hours.

Finally the time came and the surprisingly quiet time it the delivery room ended. Derek was moved to an active labor position and began to moan out his pain loudly. Stiles held one hand with both of his and Liam gripped the other and Derek began to bear down while voicing his agony to the room.

“This is the part where you tell me never again,” Stiles joked with tears in his eyes.

Derek didn't respond. He was entirely focused on giving birth. He panted through his pain, going limp for a moment and then curled forward and screamed until his voice was joined with another.

“There she is, Derek! You did it!” The doctor praised as Derek sank back against the pillows with a muffled sob.

“Oh god, that was worse than being crushed,” Derek wheezed.

“Really?” Stiles asked in shock.

“No, just... different.”

Stiles focused on taking more pain and Liam joined him again, letting Derek relax while the attention was on the baby for a moment. Then the doctor was back and Talia was layed across Derek's chest.

“She's small, but breathing very well so we'll let you hold her for a bit before putting her under a warmer. You're going to need to push the placenta out still,” The doctor told him, “A few more breaths and then push again.”

“I might drop her,” Derek worried.

“You won't,” Stiles soothed, “We got this.”

A few more deep breaths and then Derek was pushing on his own anyway. The doctor and nurses cleaned him up and then Stiles was cutting the umbilical cord with one sharp, quickly sterilized claw. Derek stared down at that squished face began truly crying. He shook and sniffled and didn't care that he was ugly crying because Stiles was there keeping the snot off the baby.


	4. Chapter 4

Hours later, after nursing, sleeping, changing, nursing, swaddling lessons, and more exhausted sleeping for Derek, the rest of their pack arrived. Scott stayed at a distance out of respect for the alpha status Stiles now had until he dragged him forward to show off his little bundle of joy. For once he was speechless. She did that to him. Absolutely rendered him into a sniffling mess of tongue-tied.

“We made this,” Derek beamed up at Cora, “We made her. Look at her. _Look at her._”

“She's gorgeous,” Cora assured him, “Just like every wrinkly baby I've ever seen.”

“Liar,” Derek scoffed, pulling her away a bit, “She's obviously better. She's a _Hale.” _

“We're going to give her the loving family you lost and the one I should have had,” Stiles promised Derek, “She's going to be whatever she wants. Trucker. Politician. Samba dancer.”

“Samba dan- You're ridiculous,” Derek scoffed.

“Actually,” The doctor spoke up with a warm smile towards them, “She'll be having lots of beautiful grandbabies for you! She's an omega. Congratulations, you gave birth to one of the higher breeding classes!”

“You... you can tell already?” Stiles spat out in shock, attention now fully on the doctor he hadn't even noticed was in the room what with his pack milling about.

“We have quick tests we can do now,” She told him proudly, “When we gave her the Vitamin K shots we took a quick mouth swab and the results just came in! You must be so proud.”

Stiles glanced at Derek who was giving him a worried look.

“I'm okay,” Stiles replied, smiling weakly, “This is why I'm in politics, Der. I'm going to make her a better future. She doesn't have to be a baby maker. She doesn't even _have_ to have kids if she doesn't want to.”

The doctor made a sputtering sound of protest, but the room at large was glaring her down. She backed out and left the happy family in peace.

“What about chastity belts?” Derek worried.

“She's _a day old_, Derek,” Stiles insisted, “I don't know if they'll be necessary when she's grown, but if they are we'll get her the combination ones. Her choice to take it off if she wants to be a hussy like her dad.”

“Which of us was that directed towards?” Derek asked, glaring at Stiles.

“Duh. You. You hussy.”

Derek smirked, “Damn right I am.”

“You two are so weird,” Cora decided.

Isaac was bouncing their little girl on his knees, smiling at them lovingly, “You two are _adorable. _And Emily is going to freaking _love _her niece!”

“Niece,” Derek's eyes were suddenly wet, “Stiles. I have a _family _again.”

“Rude,” Cora's eyes narrowed.

“You know what he means,” Stiles chided.

“Yeah,” Cora reached out to touch Emily's cheek gently, “It's different when it's _your_ baby.”

Emily grabbed Cora's finger and bit it. Cora chuckled in amusement and Stiles cooed. He turned back to Derek, baby fever fully in place, and eagerly pried her out of his arms. He snuggled his baby, scenting her and making wuffing noises in the back of his throat so the little baby omega would know she was safe. She let out a soft croon and Stiles melted and had to blink back tears.

The doctors kicked the extra people out eventually and transferred little Talia back into the bun warmer. Stiles pressed his face against the glass while Derek yawned and snuggled into the bed.

“I can't believe they haven't released us yet,” Derek shifted a bit, “I'm all healed up. It's pretty unusual for a werewolf to stay for more than a day. Especially an omega werewolf.”

“I'll ask,” Stiles replied after making a few faces at the sleeping baby.

He didn't have to go far. The nurses were already discussing plans for the baby's care, so Stiles just interjected himself into a discussion.

“Hi, doc, Congressman and proud new father. Ah, you were there. You know already. So when can I take my new family home?” The doctor gave him a tense smile and Stiles immediately stiffened in alarm, “What?”

“Nothing to be alarmed about, but I'm glad that we're having a talk without your omega present. They tend to get a bit intense when it comes to these things.”

“See, when you say that it makes me want to go get him,” Stiles glared at the closed door. It was soundproof. Derek wouldn't be able to hear them. He headed for it and had gripped the knob when the doctor gave him pause as she began to speak quickly.

“Baby Talia was a little over a month early, which isn't disastrous because obviously she was viable. However, she's a little underdeveloped which is why she is in the bun warmer between feedings. We're going to need to keep her here for at least a week. Perhaps longer.”

Stiles took his hand off the knob. Omeganine he was. An idiot he was not. You did not separate omegas from babies.

“What aren't you saying?”

“The baby stays, but he is being released,” She stated, “He can stay in a cot, but only during visiting hours. We have a fridge for his milk.”

“Oh my god, he's going to murder you all,” Stiles whispered.

“He's already been a difficult patient,” The doctor explained, “This really _is _standard procedure, but usually the alpha is... well... the one in charge.”

“Okay,” Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Okay. Okay. Okay. Ignoring the totally bitchy way you just insulted me as alpha and my relationship with Derek, why?”

“Why... what?” She asked in confusion.

“Why couldn't he stay overnight? Like, on a cot?”

“It's just not done,” She replied.

“You know full well that omega instinct is to _not leave their baby with strangers_,” Stiles waved his hands angrily, “But your policy is to separate them and just have the fucking alpha make them leave against their will and instincts? Why not just put a damn cot in the baby's room and let them stay!”

“The baby doesn't _get_ a room,” She replied, “They're tiny and they don't need their own bathrooms. They get a room full of cots with other babies in them.”

“So why can't they-”

“Because there's _screaming_ _and crying _in the room. Constantly. He'd never get any sleep. And there are other people's babies in there. I can't just have _one omega_ hang out in there!”

“So here's a brilliant plan. Waiting room. Cots. The omegas who want to stay. Let them. Then they can nurse their babies.”

“This isn't a legislative debate. He can't stay.”

“This. Is. Bullshit.”

“Those are the rules. You rich politicians can't always pay your way through your problems.”

“It doesn't even need to be a problem!” Stiles raged and then paused, “Wait. I _am _rich.”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you release our baby to our care if we have a nurse in our home and a bun warmer?”

“I...” She looked baffled and then scowled angrily, “Yes.”

“Good,” Stiles nodded, pulling out his cell phone, “Do _not _piss off my mate while I'm gone.”

It took three phone calls and then someone was headed over with a warmer that had quickly been bought from a medical supply store, oxygen tank, baby attachments, and an agreement for a nurse to stay with them until the baby was well enough to be out of the warmer. Then he looked the doctor dead in the eyes as he checked out with his husband and baby, Derek none the wiser, and took down the number of the hospital's chief of medicine.

When Stiles got home he shuffled things around, explained to the nurse that they had a fold-out bed below the baby's crib in the kitchen table, directed here where to put the bun warmer and all the attachments, kissed Derek, and headed to the office again.

“You just had a baby,” Derek pleaded, “Stiles. Stay. Enjoy her! She's a newborn!”

“And I already love her, which is why I'm headed back to the office,” Stiles soothed.

“I just had a baby! You get a month off!” Derek pleaded, “Stiles. You promised me you would be here for me this time around!”

Stiles paused and touched his cheek gently, “Derek, I am here for you. You're twenty minutes from my office. You can visit me at any time when I'm not in chambers. I _need _to go in.”

“Our baby is in a _warmer!” _Derek gestured to it, “How am I going to bring her in?”

Stiles paused, not having thought of that and Derek went in for the kill.

“Stiles. We have a new baby, she's sickly, and I'm scared.”

“You have a nurse,” Stiles tried, but he was seconds from giving in.

“She's not my _mate_.”

Stiles struggled with his urge to go to the legal battle to protect his child, omega, and all the omegas still in the hospital giving birth. He had a job to do. He had to be there for them. No one else was willing to speak for them and he was _just_ starting to get people to listen to him. He could make a serious difference _now, _but in a month the chambers would be closed for recess and he'd have to wait to submit new bills. Possibly for months.

“If you leave I'm never going to forgive you,” Derek swore, eyes damp with unshed tears, “I'm serious, Stiles. This is the be-all-end-all. I need you. Here. Now.”

Stiles dropped his briefcase onto the kitchen seat and sank down beside it, “I just want to make a difference.”

“Start _here_.”

The baby started to cry, voice soft and mewling and Derek's tears fell as he hurried forward to free her from the bassinet with the light over it. There was no damn room in their tiny camper and the nurse ended up lifting her out and handing her over. Derek nudged Stiles over to sit beside him as he opened his shirt and began feeding their child. Stiles watched in awe. Their child. Their baby.

“Why don't you want to be here?” Derek whispered.

“I do,” Stiles pleaded, “I never want to leave.”

“Then why are you trying so hard to _go.”_

Stiles let out a slow breath. He had to share this with Derek or he'd resent him for the rest of their lives. They'd done so much to repair their relationship in the past year and Stiles was about to trash it to protect Derek from the _information_. That was sexist. And detrimental to them both.

“The only reason the doctor let us bring Talia home is that I threw over a thousand bucks at the situation,” Stiles choked out, “They were going to send me in to drag you out of the hospital _without our baby, _while you freaked out about it. Which you would, because _that's our baby_. I was freaking out and I'm not even an omega anymore.”

“W-why?” Derek asked, eyes wide with horror, “Because I transitioned? Do they think I'm unfit?”

“No,” Stiles shook his head, “If it was just us specific I'd be less upset. It wasn't personal or political. It was _hospital policy_. They keep babies separated from omegas when they're born early or weak like Talia is. They kick the omega out. Any omega without the money to hire a nurse and buy medical equipment on the fly has to go home. I can't... I remember what it was like being an omega. I remember the urge to hold and have a baby even when logically I didn't want one. To think of all the omegas out there, wanting and loving their babies, and being dragged away without a say. Without even an ounce of respect. Just... here, alpha, deal with your omega! It's bullshit!”

“Stiles,” Derek shook his head, “The medical system is already a problem for poor people. They're trying to save money by not having to charge the omega for a whole room when the cot could fit in one with a dozen other babies.”

“You.... _agree with them?!_”

Derek gave him a wry smile, “I'm not at the hospital being dragged off, so I'm a bit more rational about it at the moment so... yeah. I guess I do. But for the record, I get why you're freaking out. They told you to handle me, which you don't like to do outside of the bedroom, and your old omega instincts are coming into play. You're putting yourself in my shoes, having just had a baby. You're thinking of your people. Thing is, you're _not _an omega anymore, and when you were one you were very alpha-like. We always said you were an alpha even before you were one, you know? So maybe listen to omegas before charging in to defend us like an idiot. You're lacking perspective here. What if something went wrong and Talia _needed_ the hospital again? We're 45 minutes away now.”

“You want to take her back?” Stiles wondered in awe at his mate's strength.

“Hard pass,” Derek replied, switching her to the other nipple, “They wouldn't have let her go even with all this gear if she were that bad off. Just... Stiles, thank you for talking to me, but don't make me pry it out of you again. I don't like to beg.”

“I'm sorry,” Stiles replied, leaning forward and tugging on his hair, “God, do I ever get to stop saying it?”

“No, and neither do I,” Derek reminded him, “We're a team, and that means that we back each other up, pick each other up, and when one of us fucks up we apologize to the other. It's what makes us equals.”

Stiles smirked and peaked at him sideways, “That we're both sorry sons of bitches?”

“Exactly,” Derek nodded.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Stiles sat up and leaned against Derek's muscular shoulder, smiling down at their baby, “And _her_. Look what we did, Der.”

“She's perfect,” Derek pressed a kiss to the side of Stiles' head.

“Hey,” Stiles watched as Derek tucked his nipple away and began gently burping their baby, “Uh... when do you think your hold will be up for loading...”

“I gave birth to your baby _yesterday_, Stiles.”

“Yeah, but you're a werewolf so... all healed up.”

“Do you know why omegas tend to not remember delivery clearly over time?”

“No?”

“So we'll be dumb enough to go through that pain again.”

“Oh, so-”

“So I still remember it clear as day, Stiles.”

“So that means...”

“That you're never touching me again,” Derek deadpanned as he stood up and slipped Talia into the bun warmer.

“There it is,” Stiles sighed, “Day late, but I knew it was coming eventually.”

Derek gave Stiles a fond smile and ran his fingers through his hair lovingly, “I'm gonna go take a shower, but I just wanted to say thank you for your misguided attempts to save me from snotty doctors.”

Stiles smiled at Derek fondly as the man slipped into their tiny wet bathroom.

“God, I love you.”

The nurse, having made her self as scarce as possible during their argument, hurried forward to fuss over Talia now that she was back in her bun warmer. She hooked the baby back up to a monitor, checked the settings, made sure her diaper was clear, and then directed Stiles to change it when it wasn't.

“I'm not your nanny,” She scowled when Stiles looked surprised.

“Okay, that's fair,” Stiles changed the baby, snuggled her for a moment to calm her after being disturbed, and then put her back in again, “How long does she have to stay in that thing?”

“Just a week if she responds favorably,” The nurse replied, “This is your place while you're in DC, right?”

“Yeah, it-” Stiles paused, “Damn! I have to go back to California! How the hell am I going to get you there?”

“I can't do that,” She raised her hands.

Stiles sighed, “Yeah, I didn't figure you'd signed up to being completely uprooted by two strangers. Okay. I'll just change my plans. I get a month's leave anyway. I'll just take part of it here. I have to make some phone calls. I'll step out once Derek's out of the-”

Derek stepped out, frowning at Stiles, “We're staying here?”

“That's the plan,” Stiles replied, “Just until she can be moved without a bun warmer and such. You okay with that? I could make new arrangements, but-”

“It's fine. I just thought that there would be more space at the other place, but moving a nurse across the country sounds a lot like kidnapping.”

“A bit,” Stiles chuckled, “You mind if I make some calls in the van?”

“Go,” Derek waved him off, “Make sure nobody talks you into going into work or unleash my inner alpha.”

Stiles' eyelids lowered and he smirked at Derek, “Oh, will you?”

“NO!” Derek threw the shirt he'd been considering wearing at Stiles who laughed, threw it back, and slipped out of their camper to use the van's padded walls to make a few important political calls.


	5. Chapter 5

I had to update the tags, so please check.   
Discussion of suicidal thoughts in this chapter.   
  


Stiles had spent ten years trucking with Derek, clocking incalculable hours in the cab of a truck despite having ADHD, and even when they'd upgraded it had still been under 80 square feet of space. Their camper was twice that.

It was too fucking small.

Three adults, one baby, and a bun warmer was a recipe for disaster. Even though they spent most of their time outside of the camper, they eventually had to go _inside _and there was just no way they could tolerate each other for the short stand between nightfall and falling asleep. The nurse snored, but so did Stiles. The problem was that when she snored they wanted to m u r d e r h e r. Part of it was instincts; no alpha/omega pair wanted a stranger in their home so soon after giving birth. Another part was just conflicting personalities. The nurse did her best to stay out of their way, but Derek and Stiles were used to working as a team. When they were on the same page they barely needed to speak. Her questions or comments were like nails on a chalkboard in an otherwise quiet home.

When the week ended and their pediatrician announced Talia was fit to be without constant medical care she packed up and left without even saying goodbye. Derek shut the door behind her and they all heaved a sigh of relief.

Then Talia began to cry.

And cry.

_And cry._

They took her back to the pediatrician who gave Derek a disgusted look and reminded him that babies cried. Stiles dragged him out before he could punch him. She fell asleep during the car ride home and Derek nearly cried with relief. Stiles definitely cried.

Somewhere in between feeling overwhelmed, not getting enough sleep, wanting sex but not having time for it, and the various horrors that were diapers in a tiny enclosed space... routine happened. It fell into place and one day Derek glanced up from changing a diaper to see Stiles starting breakfast without being prodded and realized they were doing that in-sync thing they did for years _with a baby_. He had to quickly swaddle her and stick her in her crib so he could sit down and have a solid cry. Stiles turned off the oven and joined him while Derek did his best not to sob loud enough to upset Talia.

“Hey, hey, what's going on?” Stiles asked, rubbing Derek's back gently, “Is this post-Partum depression? Do you need me to call the doctor?”

Derek shook his head and buried his face in Stiles' shoulder, breathing in his scent and taking comfort in his mate, alpha, and best friend. He couldn't find his words for a few hours, even after the crying stopped, and Stiles knew him well enough to wait it out. He finished breakfast, they ate, Derek nursed Talia, and she spent nearly half an hour awake and just staring around herself in wonder while Stiles talked about setting up an area for her to do tummy time. While he babbled Derek organized his thoughts and when she finally fell asleep he cleared his throat and Stiles immediately dropped quiet.

“I miss my family so, so much sometimes,” Derek whispered, voice hoarse, “It just... it's like this hole inside of me that can never be filled. Not even with your love. Not even with Talia. It's gotten smaller over the years, but it's still this bottomless pit inside of me that makes me want to just...”

Stiles took a hand and held it gently, waiting him out. Derek took a few steady breaths.

“I'd never kill myself, of course. I couldn't do that to their memory, you, or Talia, but it hits me so suddenly sometimes I have to actually stop myself. I'll be standing in the kitchen and I have to put the knife down and walk away. It's terrifying, this urge to follow them into the abyss.”

“Does your therapist know?” Stiles asked softly. Stiles knew that Derek had made an attempt years before they'd met, but it wasn't something he'd known was still an issue.

“Yes,” Derek nodded, “I wasn't keeping it from you, just...”

“I get it,” Stiles squeezed his hand gently, “Some things have to be just yours. Like the wolf toy.”

Derek nodded. He still had that stuffed toy and he kept it hidden from Stiles always. It was in a safety deposit box in California at the moment. It wasn't even especially _important_. He'd gotten it at a carnival he and Cora had gone to years ago. It didn't look particularly like a family member. It hadn't been a memorable night. It was just his and he didn't want to share it.

“It just hit me that... that we're a family. I know we were before. You, me, Cora, Isaac, Emily, our pack members, we're a family, but this is different. She's... She smells like a Hale and she's always here instead of visiting and she's _ours_ and I'm me again and...”

Stiles waited again. Derek ran out of words sometimes, and Stiles was amazing at filling in the silence with his own. He also occasionally knew to shut up and let Derek organize his thoughts. If Derek stopped talking completely he'd eventually get up and wander off to do something, leaving him to sit in silence, but for now, he was content to watch Derek with love and sorrow in his eyes.

Never pity. Stiles knew death enough to know not to pity Derek for his loss.

“The hole is getting so small that I had to actually look for it,” Derek whispered, “It's still there but it's practically gone. If it disappears, maybe after her first step or another kid or something, will I still be me?”

Stiles blinked, blindsided by the question and direction the conversation had taken. He let out a slow breath and thought his answer through instead of giving Derek a reflex 'yes'.

“When you say 'you', do you mean will you change as a person? Or do you mean will you have deserted some part of you?”

“The latter,” Derek whispered, closing his eyes and letting a few tears fall.

“Yes, you will still be you,” Stiles told him firmly, “Even if the hole closes completely. And you'll still be you if it opens back up occasionally. And if it doesn't anymore. And your family would _not _be disappointed, either way, Derek. I know enough of what you've told me of them to know that they'd want it to close but would understand if it never did. You're allowed to hurt, but damn it you're also allowed to _heal_.”

Derek stood up and dragged Stiles to the bed, climbing into it and pulling his alpha on top of him. Stiles held him as he cried himself to sleep, stroking Stiles' hair and letting himself bask in the scent of their home and family. When Derek woke up Stiles had made... well, whatever meal happens at 3 AM with a baby that has no discernible schedule. They ate happily while Talia nursed hungrily and if the mood was a bit somber under their smiles and soft chatter neither complained.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N It doesn't look like a lot of people are reading this story, but the ones who are have commented and really breathed new life into it. Thank you so much! I've lost a lot lately in my personal life, to death, and in other ways, and I need an outlet in my writing. So there is going to be hurt in this story, but there will be happiness at the end. 

Since Stiles had started life as an omega he had been educated as one, which included lessons in begging. These were useful if one was being denied care or abused by an alpha. It would allow the omega to plead to their instincts and could quite possibly save their lives since the law in most states allowed the alpha to do whatever they pleased to their omega.

Stiles remembered those lessons, and given the right incentive, he wasn't above using them just because he was now an alpha.

“Please,” Stiles dropped to his knees, head tilted submissively, hands clasped, eyes lowered, “Please, don't separate me from my baby. I'll do anything! _Anything! _Please! I'm begging you! She's my whole _world!_ I'll die without her! _Please_ don't separate me from my baby!”

“Fucking hell, Stiles,” Derek growled, planting his foot on Stiles' shoulder and shoving hard enough to knock him down the RV stairs, “Go the fuck to work!”

“Traitor!” Stiles flailed on the ground, “You demanded I stay not 30 days ago, now look at you! LITERALLY kicking me out the door!”

“You're being ridiculous,” Derek groaned, shifting Talia higher on his shoulder, “I need to put Talia to bed and get a solid 45 minutes of sleep or I'll go insane. And you're getting your suit filthy!”

“It's stain-resistant!” Stiles wailed at the trees above their campsite.

“What if someone takes pictures?” Derek snapped.

Stiles shot to his feet, “Have a great day, you two! Love you! Kisses!”

Stiles fled for the car and climbed to the back, ignoring his bodyguard Sean's chuckles as he began to pull out.

“What was that all about?” Jerome asked, “I thought you were excited to get away from your dad for a bit?”

Stiles' father had planned to be there a week before Derek's due date to help him while he was miserable and gravid, but since Derek had gone into labor early he'd missed the delivery. He'd been much put out, but rather than reschedule his visit he'd simply waited until the planned time and now was going to be there for an entire six weeks. It was actually very helpful because right as Stiles was returning to work his father was there to help Derek. That meant that they didn't have to pack up a newborn and fly to California and back each week. Derek was going to stay in Virginia full time till Talia was clear to fly while Stiles traveled, secure in the knowledge that his former alpha was watching over his mate and child.

“I'm leaving for California in three hours,” Stiles glanced sadly out his window at the passing RV park that had become a home to them. The rec center's pinball machine had three of his high scores and the other yearly members had thrown them a baby shower.

“Yeah, so?” Sean grunted.

“So I had to make him make me leave,” Stiles replied sadly, “Because otherwise he was going to _pine_ and smell miserable and I'd never leave. Now he'll fume at my dad for a few minutes about how 'annoying and childish' I am, eat some cookies, clean something, and then relax with our baby. He won't even miss me for a day or two.”

“And they say never going to bed angry is the key to a healthy relationship,” Jerome deadpanned.

Stiles chuckled, but his heart wasn't in it, “We pick on each other. It's our love language. Like, it's not really a romantic night unless someone gets shoved or called an asshole.”

“Better than him crying, I guess,” Sean decided.

“Yeah, a bit,” Stiles muttered.

“You're going to cry, aren't you?” Jerome groaned.

Stiles sniffed, “Only a little.”

XXX

The month had flown by, but also been the longest of Derek's life. Stiles had been there, thank goodness, and he'd been adorably supportive and endearing. He clearly adored Talia and was going to be the pushover parent. Now that Stiles was back to work his father was there, clucking over Derek and letting him get a bit of sleep between feedings. Stiles had had a total of one day with his dad before heading back to work, but all the attention had been on Talia anyway.

Derek was grateful to have Noah there with him. They had grown close over the years and shared a few interests. During the one day that Stiles had been home with his father around, the older Stilinski had shoed Stiles and Derek out on a date. Derek had pumped dry first so that he could be sure that Talia would eat. She'd slept the entire two hours they'd been gone and Derek had had to fight back tears when he realized she would be up for the next hour or more. He had missed out on sleep for a dinner at a restaurant and a walk in the park sans child. Stiles had looked dejected. He'd apparently hoped for sex, but it just wasn't on the table yet. Derek was too focused on his baby.

Noah made sure to help Derek and ensure he got to sleep, something that Stiles had been trying to do. However, Stiles was never truly _off duty. _He had bills to read, absent votes to file, statements to make to the media, and a re-election campaign to organize. Being a politician's spouse was exhausting. Derek was constantly under guard, had no privacy, and every time he left the house someone was sure to take his picture. Apparently, most congressperson's spouses didn't get the scrutiny he did, but since he'd switched genders with Stiles the papers were constantly looking for scandal.

One of the first things Derek did after Stiles left was to start looking for a different arrangement. It was too expensive to own in Virginia or DC; most politicians rented single rooms or lived in frat-house style rental arrangements. Derek traveled with his mate, unwilling to be away from him for extended periods of time, so rental rooms were not an option. However, the addition of a baby and all the visitors one drew the RV was suddenly TOO SMALL. He'd lived most of his life in the cab of a truck, so needing more space than an RV, which already felt huge, was a new thing for him. Derek ended up wondering what the best option was. A bigger RV? A tiny house? A proper house? Stiles had already contacted a real estate agent for Derek, who knew that Derek was empowered to make financial decisions for their family. The agent was uncomfortable with it but accepted it.

Derek was usually mistaken for an alpha, but with a baby, in his arms, he might be noticed and an alpha might try to take advantage of his swinging instincts. So Derek put on his chastity belt- the cut-resistant fabric kind- and wrapped their little one in a sling. He met the agent at the first property while Noah had some time to himself. Stiles had been gone for a week and Noah was feeling the tight quarters in their home despite having his own sleeping area in the kitchenette. According to him, that wasn't living, and Derek was feeling the pressure to give Talia a 'normal' life.

Whatever the hell that was.

Derek hated the big, huge house that Cora and Isaac lived in with their daughter. He didn't want a big house, and they couldn't afford to pay for two houses in two expensive areas anyway. Rich? Yes. Billionaires? No. They no longer had income from the business since Stiles and Derek had sold their shares and left it to their remaining family. Since Peter wasn't trustworthy Derek had transferred ownership of the business into Malia's hands, making Peter a senior partner to soothe his wounds. Isaac and Cora had some small roles in the business, but they were so small that what income they got was negligible. Stiles paid most of their bills. Derek needed a new space to live, but he didn't want to add to the bills either.

The first thing they looked at was a small house, a split level wedged between two other houses. It wasn't technically a tiny house, but it made him think of the 'revenge house' he'd read about online. Tiny to the point of _why make this_. It actually felt rather nice inside. Derek didn't feel overwhelmed by the space because it was narrow, but the high ceilings made it feel big and open. It was three floors of little rooms in cute colors. Stiles would love it. However, the price tag even for renting in downtown DC was insane. Derek didn't want to take that on just for a cute little house they'd only spend a few days a week in.

The next was an RV sales depot. Derek got to tour newer models that weren't even released yet with his agent walking through red tape for him. Derek saw so many models the first day that he didn't really absorb them all between feedings and being constantly tired, so he walked away with a pile of brochures.

Derek wanted to just go to sleep, but he needed a few things for their current home so he stopped at the grocery store. He didn't even really register his guards anymore, even though Liam was pack and Braeden was well on her way to being a human member as well. They were his shadows, and there was a level of resentment that could build up if he let their constant presence register at all times. So when he was doing things that he'd normally do alone he'd just block them out and go about his business unless they talked to him first. They knew this, they were professionals, and let him stand in the cereal aisle reading the back of a box for as long as he needed without hurrying him along.

That consideration was what caught Derek off guard when one of them walked up and just _grabbed his arm _and began to pull.

“What?!” Derek jerked his arm away, knocking Liam back a surprising distance in his shock.

“Move. We need to move. Now.”

Liam's voice was soft but urgent, and Derek dropped the box of cereal and wrapped his arms around his child protectively. Fear was pounding through him and for the first time since his return to his proper gender Derek felt the helplessness that often went with being an omega; with being the one no one filled in, who everyone treated as fragile and ignorant.

Derek ducked his head and made himself small because if there were snipers nearby he wanted Liam and Braeden to die before his baby. He wasn't even ashamed of that thought. His baby came before the fucking president of the United States as far as Derek was concerned. They slipped out of the grocery store at a fast pace, Liam leading Derek and Braeden ahead to make sure their path was clear. They got into the car and Derek was shoved in the back. He barely had the car seat engaged when they were peeling out of the parking lot. Derek fastened his own seatbelt and looked out the window to see lights ahead of them.

“We have a police escort?” Derek asked in shock.

“Your passport is with you?” Liam asked instead of answering the obvious question.

“No, I didn't leave the house with it,” Derek mentally cursed himself. He _knew _to always have it, “Wait. Talia isn't cleared for plane travel!”

Silence.

“FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

“How much do you trust your pediatrician?” Braeden asked.

“He's our _pediatrician_.”

“With Talia's life?” Braeden asked.

“Pediatrician translates to a baby doctor, in case you were wondering,” Derek snarked.

“With non-medical issues? Would your pediatrician sell you out for a few cold thousand? Tell them where you are?”

Derek ground his teeth, “Talia isn't clear to fly. She was premature. Premature babies have to wait until a _month_ after their _expected due date_. Talia just hit the due date two days ago. She could _die_ from a flight, especially if you're planning on taking us internationally. This isn't about one doctor giving his or her permission. It's not about potential germs on an enclosed plane. It's about lung development. It's about my child _surviving_. If you're going to force me on a plane you can pull over now, because I'll fucking hitchhike to Stiles. Don't think I can't do it, and it will be safe than what you're talking about doing.”

Liam swore, “He'll fucking do it, and there's no way we can stop him.”

Braeden got on the phone again and for a moment Derek thought he was getting his way. Then Braeden began to speak.

“Yes, this is 41S, I've got Pride2 and Pride Newbie with me, but we've hit a snag. Pride Newbie is allergic to birds and-”

The voice on the other side of the phone cut Braeden off, sharp and angry, “We've got thirteen dead Senators and an unknown amount of dead congressmen on our hands. I don't give two shits what happens to the snatch and spawn of one congressman. Get them to safety, wherever that is, but don't call me again if you don't have Pride One in eyesight.”

The phone call ended and Derek went numb. He'd thought this was a media scare at best, a terrorist threat at worst. No one dead yet, or he'd have heard people talking in the store. If a plane had hit something they'd be grounded. If mass deaths had happened the people in the store would be playing the news on repeat on their phones. He'd have _heard something._ There was no way the threat had become a reality yet, no way that Stiles all the way in California was at risk of something happening on the other side of the country. Now that he knew that they considered Stiles the bigger safety risk, that Derek was being moved as a precaution, he went cold with fear.

“We'll drive,” Braeden decided while Derek's world fell apart in the back seat, “Call the escort. That's too much attention for a long drive. We need a breakaway point. A bridge or tunnel or something. Then we'll get them to a safe house. There should be an open one since most of the locals are leaving the area.”

Derek choked on his words. Was this how Stiles had felt when Derek had been near death in the hospital? Except Stiles had had to see Derek bleeding, dying, listened to his heart slowing, his breath wheezing. Stiles was somewhere in the world, the father of his baby, and Derek couldn't even ask if he was alive.

_Pathetic little omega bitch!_

Derek shook himself hard, cleared his throat, and with only a slight waver managed the question.

“Is he alive?”

“We haven't heard,” Liam admitted, “Scott hasn't felt him pass though, so that's important. Hold on to that.”

Derek fumbled with his phone and stared down at it in confusion. No signal.

“It won't work,” Braeden told him, “The companies have shut down their signals. Only government-issued cell phones work right now.”

“That's insane and sounds like a conspiracy theory,” Derek muttered, thinking of Stiles and his rants about overreaching power.

Derek ran a finger gently over Talia's little button nose. She was exhausted from all the movement earlier in the day and was deep asleep. Derek tried to think about what it would be like to raise her alone. Without Stiles. He didn't want to, but he couldn't avoid the thought because he was responsible for a child and had to think ahead of the officials who might try to take her if he were alone. He'd need an alpha to hold his 'keys', legally speaking to avoid someone deciding he couldn't be a single parent. Stiles' father or Scott were the obvious choices, which led to Derek recalling that Noah was staying with them.

“Stiles' dad!”

“Already at the airport,” Liam explained, “We'll have to send for him.”

“I need him with me,” Derek insisted, fear making his stomach twist, “He's Stiles' father. I _need him_.”

“Derek,” Liam's eyes met Derek's in the mirror, “He'll be there.”

Derek nodded, effectively silenced but not resenting it. Liam was pack, and a beta, one of the people who he knew would take care of him until an alpha could get there. He was _safe_. His daughter was safe. They would make it.

_Stiles. You make it, too. _


	7. Chapter 7

There was a gap. He knew there was a gap. There _had_ to be a gap because one didn't just go from standing in your office talking to your secretary in California to standing in the middle of Camp David covered in blood.

However, Stiles was a politician to the core, and that meant not being perturbed in the face of potential danger and political upheaval. When Stiles' mind started back up from whatever dark place it had been he took in a slow breath through his nose, straightened his back from where he was crouched, and surveyed his surroundings with calm eyes. He didn't expect danger. Alpha instincts being what they were he wouldn't have come out of whatever mental state he'd been in during his 'blackout' period if he were still in danger. In fact, it was much more likely that he'd been a slavering, menacing mess for a lengthy period of time _after_ the danger had passed, with betas shepherding him around and waiting for him to snap back to reality.

_Don't start rapping. You're not good at it. _

Stiles was outside, on a helicopter pad, but there was no helicopter in sight. The wind wasn't even stirring. He was surrounded by secret service, and it wasn't just the lower echelon members that he was used to seeing surrounding himself and other members. These were the president's people. Stiles had met the president many times, of course, he had, but he'd never been to Camp David. Stiles was too new to the scene to get that treatment just yet.

“Debrief me,” Stiles stated firmly the moment he saw a familiar face.

It was that same secretary. She looked pale and drawn and was trembling.

“I... I...” She stammered.

A stranger stepped forward, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder and effectively dismissing her. She practically fled, stumbling towards a tree where she doubled over and threw up.

“Situation report?” Stiles demanded, voice more firm.

“My name is Agent Hotchner with the FBI. I'm on loan from the BAU.”

Here the man paused. If he expected Stiles to flip out because the man who broke his half-brother's heart was standing before him he was going to be sorely disappointed. Stiles had known that he'd meet the man someday and had already played through every screaming accusation he could throw his way in his mind... and dismissed them. He wasn't a teenager anymore. He wasn't a young man. He was past thirty and done with the drama. The FBI agent nodded sharply and continued.

“There has been an attempt to overthrow democracy,” Hotchner stated, “Anything further should be discussed in private. Will you join me inside?”

Stiles nodded briefly and followed the man into the nearest building. He didn't know what its purpose was, but laptops covered every available surface, filled with news reports of a nationwide cellular crash, conspiracy theorists, reporters telling people to remain calm, and a parade of protesters outside of the White House. Stiles paused, hands-on-hips, to watch a report announce that there was fresh news finally coming out of the White House.

_-No news as to how many deaths have occurred_-

“Sir?” Hotchner was holding open an office door.

Stiles stepped through the door, knowing that somewhere a betrayal had happened. Somewhere people were dying, and their friends had killed them. There was no other way for this level of destruction to occur except for treason. The question was, how severe? Was this political or personal? How many? Were Derek, Talia, and his father safe? Was Spencer?

The last question was answered first as Spencer bolted to his feet and threw his arms around Stiles, ignoring the blood drying on his clothes. They held each other tightly for a while. Stiles was technically Spencer's alpha, even though Spencer worked on the other side of the country. His 'keys' were 'held' by another, someone who Stiles hadn't even met. He trusted his brother's judgment.

“What happened?” Stiles asked, and Spencer knew him well enough, was smart enough, to know what he meant so much more than politically.

“Your family is being secured,” Reid told him, “Last I heard they're safe.”

Part of Stiles relaxed at that. Whatever political fallout there was he could handle, as long as he had a mate and baby to come home to. Spencer stepped back and gripped Stiles' hand firmly, making Stiles frown in confusion at the suddenly official feel to their greeting.

“Allow me to be the first to welcome you to your new position, Mr. Speaker for the House,” Spencer stated softly, eyes sad since this wasn't the congratulations such a title warranted.

“Mr... what?” Stiles blinked, thrown for the first time.

Stiles wasn't up for Speaker for the House. Stiles wasn't even on the shortlist. Or the long list. He hadn't come up for a vote. He was too new, too inexperienced, too young. With the realization of what Spencer had just said laid before him Stiles' decorum broke for the first time since he'd come around and he sputtered for a moment, looking between the two FBI agents before speaking.

“Holy shit, I'm the only one still alive.”


	8. Chapter 8

Noah John Stilinski, who would answer to either but only write John just to be difficult, was a bit put out. He'd been rushed to the airport, told he would be joined by his son-in-law and grandbaby, and then just... left there. The guy with him rushed off to attend to another important family, told Noah to wait because he hadn't arrived yet, and got the hell out of dodge.

  
So Noah waited. And waited. Then the news started playing on repeat, and all the people who were helpless without their cell phones started flocking around the terminal coffee shop television sets. A man was on the television who Noah had never seen before. He had a British accent and his eyes were dead... no... sightless. He was talking but Noah was too far away to hear what he was saying. However, he could read just fine despite the need for glasses he'd recently developed. The ticker on the bottom said that this man was the president, but Noah had voted for the last president and this was _not him. _Something was horribly wrong.

Noah was afraid for Stiles before, but now that he was seeing this horrifying event playing out he was momentarily shocked still. The ticker changed and his fears were confirmed. No wonder he'd been abandoned there. Only three members of congress were alive. Stiles was likely not one of them or they'd be worried about him being a hostage. Someone had killed his boy.

Noah's hand went over his mouth and he shook, tears in his eyes as the shock rolled over him in waves. For several minutes he was unable to do anything but mourn until a stranger lived into his face and laughed.

“Oooh, you libtards are scared now, aren't you?!”

Noah punched him, angry and hurt and unable to process anything beyond his grief. He was shoved, and he shoved back, people were swinging shouting and Noah reached for his gun but it wasn't on his hip. He'd left it in California, not sure he could keep it safe in a tiny RV. He regretted that now that the fucking Endtimes was happening. He couldn't even contact his deputies!

Noah shoved his way to freedom, half expecting there to be a riot in the streets. It was calm outside the airport, or at least as calm as the airport usually was. He took a few breaths and tried to _think. _

His first thought was that there was nothing left without his son, but then he remembered Talia. That baby was born prematurely. If he'd been really thinking earlier he'd have realized that Derek wouldn't let them put the baby on a plane. He'd start walking first. The only question was where he'd go once the guards inevitably gave in to him?

Noah headed for the nearest police station and walked into a fresh wave of chaos. He was calm this time; tears buried and mourning hidden. His goal was clear: 1) Get to Derek and Talia. 2) Protect what was left of his family.

Noah found the Lieutenant, pulled out his badge, and turned on the Stilinski charm.

“Hello, Lieutenant, I'm Sherriff Noah and I'm hoping you'll deputize me seeing as I'm a bit far from home and you could use a few good men.”

He intentionally left out his last name, but it _was _on his badge. He just wasn't sure how smart it was to use it in a crowded room. Stiles technically went by Hale-Stilinski or just Hale since that was his original last name by law, but people often called him Stilinski instead now that he was an Alpha. Noah didn't want to get bumped off before he got access to the computer and a way to contact Derek or someone who could find him.

XXX

_My fellow Americans, allow me to introduce myself. I am Gideon Deucalion, president of the United States of America. Some of you may be surprised by my appearance. I assure you, the republic is in good hands. I have removed a few bad seeds and we are ready to make America great once more. _

Stiles paused the broadcast that was going on repeat and let out a slow breath. He had some more information now. He wasn't _actually_ the last congressman alive, but it was close enough. There were two Republican and one Democratic congressman left. Stiles was Independent, so out of fear over who to trust they'd voted him the Speaker. All three had joined Stiles in Camp David and he was keeping a close eye on them, as they were on him.

“He sounds British,” Stiles stated, “I'm assuming he's not since no one has just thrown his ass out of the White House?”

“He was born in California, not far from you, and his mother is an American citizen. There's no contesting his legal right to be president.”

“Except that he wasn't elected,” Stiles stated firmly.

“He _was_ elected. As a California congressman,” Spencer stated.

“He murdered his way to the top,” Stiles stated, “That's not how the law was designed to function. If someone successfully pulled a Guy Fawkes on the White House and he was the next man in line we wouldn't be having this conversation, but he didn't end up the President. He didn't get elected. He took over. This is a coup, plain and simple. Remove him.”

“He wasn't the one who did the killing,” Hotchner stated, “We would have to prove he was the one who arranged all these deaths, not just the highest-ranking survivor.”

“Fine,” Stiles nodded, “Then we start impeachment proceedings.”

“That's your official decision?” An aid asked.

“Of course it is,” Stiles stated, “If we can't just send some bears in to remove him, we'll run ourselves a caravan and haul him out instead. Get me a camera and a mic me up.”

“The Speaker needs a new suit-” The same aid announced, starting to turn away.

“No, I do not,” Stiles stated firmly.

Spencer smiled softly but Stiles didn't have the energy to indulge in the scheming that they might have done together had they grown up like normal stepbrothers. Derek was out there somewhere with Talia, worried about him and quite possibly not safe for long. He trusted his dad to care for them, but he didn't want to face the idea of losing _any _of them. He wanted to act fast and see this man in jail, or better yet dead.

“Sir, you might want to rethink that,” The aid pushed.

“Why?” Stiles stated.

“You're covered in blood... sir.”

Stiles looked up finally, “I'm alive and there are dozens of dead congressmen in the White House. I wasn't there, though. So you're assuming that this blood might be from innocent people.”

“Sir...”

“Show the clip,” Stiles stated.

“I'm sorry?” The aid stammered.

“Show the clip, first. You can't tell me there aren't cameras on me at all times. There's a clip. So show it. Show the clip of me fighting for my life. Then put me on.”

“Sir, with all due respect I don't think you properly recall what happened,” The aid stressed again.

Stiles' eyes traveled over him and then he turned to the secretary he'd known from his office, “Remove him. Send him home.”

“Sir, I-”

“Get him out, now,” Hotchner stated.

“You need to watch the clip first!” The aid shouted.

Stiles rolled his eyes but nodded to Reid who got a plump young woman to step forward and show him on a tablet.

It looked like a typical scene to him. Stiles was in his office, tie undone and jacket over the chair. He was standing up, moving his arms around as he talked cheerfully to the room. He could see his secretary by his side, smiling at something he'd said.

“You're not moving,” Hotchner stated softly, “You have your back to a wall. Why?”

“There are stranger alphas in the room,” Stiles and Spencer both stated together.

“Of course,” Hotchner nodded, “Omega caution.”

Stiles nodded. He had met Hotchner years ago when he'd first met Spencer but didn't remember him well. It had been a tumultuous day, he'd been an omega, and he'd just had a heat recently. Omegas were taught never to turn their back on strange alphas and that 'paranoia' was something that Stiles still carried with him.

However, the instinct to fight rather than run when he sensed danger was an alpha instinct. It was a _new_ alpha instinct, one that many critics believed Stiles didn't have in control. Stiles could see why the aid was concerned, because one moment he was joking around and the next he slashed the throat of a man standing before him without warning. The secretary was visibly screaming, but with no audio a lot of the video was hard to interpret. Stiles roared, leaped over the desk, and the clip was nothing but the secretary's reaction from there on out.

“You were protecting her,” Spencer noticed.

Stiles nodded, “She's in my outer pack. Most of my staff are.”

The secretary moved closer to Stiles and he gave her shoulder a soft squeeze.

“Did you see any weapons or aggressive movements?” He asked her.

“No,” She replied, “but you wouldn't have just killed someone. I know you wouldn't.”

“So it looks like I just go on a killing spree with no warning. At best I'm a nutty alpha without control. At worse, I'm with Duecalion.”

“Yes, sir,” The aid stated, clearly expecting Stiles to relent his original order.

“Well, good to know. Now. Roll the tape, mic me up, get me on camera,” Stiles waved a finger in the air, “Let's hit the blacktop, people!”


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Okay. So I have been re-reading my older stories in this series to make sure I'm not fucking up TOO much, but... seriously I've had some issues before this one. Apparently I keep misgendering Stiles' dad? As a trans person I should REALLY know better, so I'm having a good laugh at myself over that. He's supposed to be a beta, but poses “as Stiles' alpha”, as in a parental/ownership role since Stiles can't be alone as an omega. He gets this option because he's Stiles' dad, but without a literal alpha Stiles would have to go to a facility. So that should clear that up from past stories. Also, Stiles is supposed to be in the Senate, not the House according to Triple Digits. Well, shit. Senate makes a LOT more sense for the death ratio and a few plot points, which is probably why I put him there in the last story, but changes where THIS story is going from here on out. Damn it. I have no idea how to fix this because it really damages things, so I'm going to change Triple Digits. If ya'll notice any other major continuity errors, please let me know. I know it's just fanfiction, but I'd like it to not be distracting or confusing (like my grammar lol).

Derek's heart swelled with pride. Stiles was on the television, and he'd let rip with a seriously shocking video of him killing a man in apparent cold blood. He didn't make excuses. He didn't add in a plea from the secretary. He just cut to a clip of himself at Camp David, eyes cold with rage and blood still on his otherwise crisp white shirt.

“Hello and greetings from Camp David, where the state's slogan feels quite fitting today. Alpha deeds, omega words. I have defeated those who would assassinate me in order to usurp our great democracy. Now I stand before you modest, a Speaker for the House who was not elected into this position. I accept it until an emergency election can be held to make sure that the people's voices are properly heard. For now, we're in a state of emergency. I am asking the other two surviving congressmen and many locally elected judges to hold dual positions so that we can hold an impeachment inquiry immediately.”

The feed cut and Derek shifted Talia to his other teat, “Short and sweet. That was your daddy on TV, yes it was. He's going to save democracy.”

“Derek,” Liam let out a slow breath, “We have some semi-bad news. Your father in law wasn't at the airport. We have to proceed to the safe house without him.”

Derek frowned, “Any idea where he is?”

“No, I'm afraid not.”

“Well... he's a grown-ass man. He'll be fine. Let's get Talia to safety.”

Liam blinked in surprise, “You're just... I thought you 'needed' him. He's your back-up 'alpha', right?”

“Scott is,” Derek replied, “But he's all the way in California. Noah is my back-up parental unit. I have one other, but she's probably busy helping Stiles.”

“Okay,” Liam glanced at Braeden, “Thing is... you recently gave birth. I know that omegas need family near them after giving birth, not only for bonding but for safety, comfort, mental health. Werewolves even more than humans. I'm pack, Braeden's close, but we're not family. We're worried that you're going to snap. Omegas in crisis situations tend to... well, to preserve the _adult _life. To conserve calories and protect your life you might instinctively hurt Talia. We don't want that and I know you don't either.”

Derek barely smothered a smirk. Stiles was rubbing off on him with his morbid humor and Liam talking down to him like his instincts ruled him was so fucking obnoxious. Instead he held out one hand and waited. Liam was confused as he hesitantly took Derek's hand in his with an awkward grimace.

“We'll get you through this,” Liam stated firmly, “We need you to be very open and communicate with us when-”

“Your phone, dumbass,” Derek tossed his hand down.

Braeden snorted.

“I can't,” He argued, “It's government issue. Emergencies only. Besides, you can't reach anyone with it. All the regular cell phones are off. Stiles will call when he can, but he's busy with-”

“I'm not calling Stiles, I know he's in the middle of a fucking emergency and I'm not _that _driven by hormones_._ I'm calling my _mom_. Trust me. Her phone will be working.”

Liam looked skeptical and confused considering the fact that Derek's mother had died years ago, but he handed over his phone with a heavy breath. He had to do right by Derek first. Instincts and all. Derek was used to fighting his more than Liam was. 

Derek typed a number he knew well and the answer was immediate.

“Talk to me,” Lydia's voice stated firmly, proud and strong.

“Mom,” Derek breathed out, voice cracking a bit.

“Derek, thank fuck,” Lydia sobbed, “I was so worried! Are you safe? Is Talia?”

“We're both safe. We're on our way to a safe house.”

“Derek,” Liam warned.

“I can't tell you where, but I need you here with me. Stiles' dad is missing and I have no family or close pack here.”

“Okay,” She stated firmly, “I'll get to you. Give me a place where one of your lackey's can pick me up.”

“I really appreciate this,” Derek breathed out, his body relaxing. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been, “I know you're supposed to be helping Stiles, but I figure a lot of that you can do by phone. I just need you here with me.”

“Oh, you're going to pay me back in baby snuggles, and I don't mean you this time,” Lydia stated, “I do have some information for you that you might not have yet. Stiles has called in his whole pack, and Spencer's was already on scene. They're going to protect him. At the moment legal advice can be given through Spencer as he's basically a fountain of information. I can give you- and that small, squishy version of you and Stiles- my full attention.”

“Talia is going to _love you_.”

“Of course she is,” Lydia agreed firmly, “Honestly, I'm tempted to go back to whoring. It left me more time with you. I can't _believe_ I missed her first month!”

  
Derek handed the phone to a baffled Liam who agreed on a meet-up point with Lydia. She booked a flight while still on the phone with them and Derek put Talia into her car seat once more so they could resume the drive to the safe house.

XXX

“What do you mean my dad isn't with them and you don't know where they are?” Stiles asked sharply.

Stiles had just gotten out of the shower and was finally getting updated news on his family. The news was that no one knew where any of them were. 

Liam had been given a safe-house to go to, but hadn't shown up. He was a cop instead of Secret Service and he'd left his job to guard Derek for Stiles because he believed in Stiles' cause, so it was entirely possible he'd realized that people were trying to kill them in _government _positions and gone AWOL_. _He was answering the phone, but ending calls immediately, hadn't checked in, and wasn't where he was supposed to be. The phone could be tracked, but he wasn't shutting it off so he probably was waiting for a call from Stiles.

Stiles surrounded himself with people he trusted. Like his secretary. He'd grown up with Heather. He trusted her. She trusted him. He did _not _trust whoever had told Liam about the safe-house if Liam didn't. He just wished he could have trusted whoever had taken his dad to the airport, because now they had to worry he was a hostage. Not to mention the fact that Derek had no family with him so shortly after giving birth. His mate was vulnerable and surrounded only by secondary and tertiary pack.

“He was left at the airport, but he didn't get on the flight once he realized Derek wasn't showing.”

Stiles frowned, “No way Derek would fly with a premie, no way my dad just sat there waiting for us or left with anyone he didn't trust. Can we spare someone to look for him?”

The agent in question grimaced and shook his head. Stiles wanted to scream and shout, but he couldn't do that. He let out a slow breath and faced reality. His dad couldn't come before the country. However, he could still reach Derek and make sure that he was okay.

“Okay. Can we get cell service restored so people can _contact us _easily?” Stiles griped.

“No, sir,” The agent looked just as frustrated, “The President-”

“The Fraud.”

“-Is keeping them off.”

Stiles let out a slow breath and then held out his hand, “I want to talk to my husband. My cell is trashed. May I?”

Stiles felt a knot of anxiety as the phone rang and rang- Liam may well have ditched it since their last contact with him- before his packmate answered. He handed it to Derek with barely a word once he realized it was Stiles on the phone. Thank goodness.

“Hey, honey,” Stiles breathed, the knot untangling.

“Stiles,” Derek sounded tired, but so happy and relieved, “Oh, my love, my mate, my alpha.”

“Don't start,” Stiles laughed, “I'm on a borrowed phone. No kinky stuff.”

“I love you,” Derek told him, voice choked, “I love you so much. I'm so proud of you. Please, please stay alive.”

“I will, and I love you, too,” Stiles insisted, “Is my dad with you? They say no here, but I was hoping-”

“No, I'm sorry, we don't know where he is.”

Stiles let out a slow, shaky breath. He was dealing, but talking to Derek brought the emotions to the front. He wanted to sit down and have a good cry.

“Okay. He'll be okay. He'll be okay. I'm so glad you're safe. You need to call Lydia or Melissa to-”

“Done.”

“Of course,” Stiles breathed, “My clever mate. Then you have your familial support. Good. How's my little girl?”

“Beautiful and hungry. I'm going to ask Lydia to supplement it. I don't think my milk supply is up to snuff. My hormones are still in flux and I can't get to a damn doctor to get pills.”

“Shit. Are you... I don't know how long this will take.”

“I'm not mad,” Derek insisted, “I understand. This is different than you avoiding me to campaign. You take all the time you need. We'll be safe.”

“God, I love you so much,” Stiles sniffled, “You and Talia are my whole world.”

“And you're ours.”

“I...” Stiles looked at the agent waiting for his phone and the door that led to reporters and his responsibilities, “I have to go.”

“I know.”

Stiles stood there in silence, just listening to Derek breathe for a few minutes. He didn't want to hang up. Neither did Derek. Eventually Derek began to snore softly and Stiles blinked away tears. There was a time he'd thought he'd never hear that sound again. Stiles hung up finally and handed the phone off to the agent.

The agent frowned at he phone, “There's a text, sir. It says the other phone will be ditched.”

“Of course it will,” Stiles nodded, satisfied with the results, “Liam's not going to let The Fraud track it. Let's go.”

They stepped out with Stiles' mind cluttered with worry. His dad was missing. They had managed to keep the location of Cora and Isaac secret. Peter was always in the wind. Malia could kill with a glance. Derek and Talia were safe. He had to focus on the country, not on his fears for those he loved.

The flight to the capital was peaceful and silent, giving Stiles a chance to organize his thoughts, but their destination was terrifying. Stiles was going to step into the very room where hundreds had died the day before in the largest mass shooting that Washington DC had ever seen aside from the war on Native Americans centuries before. It was one part drama and one part official action. Stiles was supposed to be surrounded by secret service but he'd absolutely refused. Stiles had read the reports. The secret service members were often the ones doing the killing in the initial attack. Those he'd been given were supposedly vetted, but Stiles was a paranoid bastard and werewolf in a pack. He didn't trust them. So he had put his foot down and told them all to go there alone if they didn't meet his requirements.

Derek was his usual bodyguard before Talia was born, but now he was off-limits: his safety was too important even if the omega was the toughest man Stiles knew. Stiles' dad was in the wind so he was missing his marksman. So Stiles had extended as much trust as he could and sent a chopper to get his co-alpha. Scott had shown up red-eyed and fuming. He'd hugged Stiles and told him no one was going to hurt him. Ever.

Scott had brought Allison, Hayden, Jackson, Erica, Boyd, Kira, and Malia from Derek and Stiles' combined primary pack. Hotch had brought in more of Spencer's packmates, who were all alphas and FBI agents if humans. When they got off the helicopter they walked up with supernatural eyes flaring, Allison's crossbow cocked, the FBI agents searching the perimeter, and Jackson's tail exposed and lashing. If the situation hadn't been so dire Stiles would have been cackling at their power walk from the landing pad to the Capital building as cameras recorded them and potential snipers perched on every building.

Stiles walked into the building and was immediately struck by how _empty_ it was. There had been hundreds of representatives in there last time he'd been in, and that wasn't counting the Senators. One of the surviving Senators had moved up to Vice President, but Stiles had no idea if he was a good person who had ended up in that position or someone Duecalion had intended to be there. Probably the latter. So chances were he was going to work _against _Stiles when voting was brought in. That was dangerous because Stiles was depending on the system to actually work and he was quickly losing faith in it. Thanks to legislation passed in the last 20 years it was already pretty damn broken. Stiles would easily get impeachment through the surviving four members of the House- another had popped out of hiding- but the Senate was who would actually get rid of the bastard making a mockery of their government, and all their Independents and one of the Democrats had been killed. Stiles had to rely on the Republican majority to do their job, and Deucalion was a Republican. Chances were the ones who were left were _his._

Fucking hell, they could vote to _keep him, _despite the fact he'd been on the television for a solid fifteen hours without even piss breaks calmly laying out his manifesto. He wanted omegas repressed into silence. He wanted the borders shut down, and he'd gone so far as to ground international flights for the moment. Temporarily, he said. The cell phones being fucked and the planes down were all _temporary._ He wanted werewolves to be licensed and tracked like animals, which wouldn't be temporary and blew Stiles' mind because _he was a fucking werewolf himself_. This man clearly hated everything and everyone around him and thought he was the only one who could fix things. He was insane, but he had an actual _following, _and that was giving some Republicans pause. They could get shit done, like banning abortion for betas, something that was already illegal for omegas, and removing werewolf rights under this die-hard bastard. So they were standing behind a _known murderer_ and Stiles was going to have to rely on them to get the monster out of the White House.

Stiles was non-partisan. He'd picked Independent because it gave him freedom of movement. He didn't think Republicans were all evil and sexist and speciest. He got that a lot of them were trying to preserve their way of life, had religious views that weren't compatible with Democrats, and had some staunch moral views that he didn't wholly agree or disagree with. However, their stance made _his _impossible. So many issues that he'd prefer to sit on the fence about were now immovable obstacles.

Stiles stepped up to the podium and stared down at the recently scrubbed wood. He couldn't smell the blood anymore. It had been steamed out of carpets and bleached out of wood, uncaring of the damage left to the surfaces if it just got the stink of death out. It left a mark. A mark on their country that would never be gone. Decades and centuries old items in a room that had stood for freedom for 227 years were scarred forever or discarded as trash. Stiles looked up at the nearly empty room. Two democrats and one republican were alive, the second democrat having been in hiding until Stiles arrived. He was still wearing blood covered clothes and looked haunted.

“We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere. When human lives are endangered, when human dignity is in jeopardy, national borders and sensitivities become irrelevant. Wherever men and women are persecuted because of their race, religion, or political views, that place must - at that moment - become the center of the universe,” Stiles stated, then took another breath, “That is a quote from Elie Wiesel, a victim of the Holocaust. You may think that I am being extreme, but I have flown all over this country in the last twenty-four hours. I'm a werewolf. There are cages being built with Mountain Ash bars. There are funds being shifted from veteran affairs, foreign aid, and hurricane relief in Puerto Rico to advance the building of war machines and omega capture facilities. Hindsight can teach us many things, and one of those things are that the reactions of others are usually to _calm down_ in a drastic situation. To take a seat and talk it out. Charming voices can seem reasonable and intense actions can seem moderate when fear-scent is in the air. That is how so many dictators rose to power, through words and deeds that in small doses seemed moderate and harmless until they weren't. Until people suffered and died. Now we have a man who started with death, and a small group who elected me Speaker because I was non-partisan. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I can not remain neutral in the face of this danger to the people of this country and our republic. Nor will I step down. Nor will I side with the Democrats, because they aren't the solution. I will stay with them as long as necessary, but I do not count myself as one of them. I hope that this statement reminds the Republicans here and in the Senate that they, too, are responsible for more than keeping an out of control president happy. I hope it reminds them that Democrat and Republican are just _terms. _They are not sides to take. The only side we should have at this moment is against Deucalion, and the only side we should have today and in the future is _for the people. _I am willing to risk my life to depose him. So should they. They do not have to abandon the party they favor to protect the people they are responsible to.  
  
“In the future our children will look back on this time and ask the questions that none of us wish to answer. How did we not see it coming? How did we not know that a man that unstable was in our midst? How did we let it go from violence to debate instead of simply ending it with one bullet? How did we stand there _talking _while cages filled up to capacity and more were built. This process will take time, and I am a patient man. I've lived in a small space for years at a time, making small headway in congested traffic, with perishable goods that needed to get to their destination _on time_ weighing down my back end. I have seen blood when a load of Dead Head nearly ended my mate's life and had to wait out his healing to reclaim him. I am a patient man. I am no stranger to red tape and rules and laws and obeying them even when they are harmful to myself and those I love. So I will be calm and collected and do as I must because a civil war is the only other option and we all know the cost of war. However, I ask all of you assembled now to think towards the future. When this is all over and we are dandling grandchildren and great-grandchildren on our knees, what other questions will they ask? Will they ask about the blood that is on your hands? If so, will they be proud of it? Or will they be ashamed?”

Stiles let that sink in for a moment and then reached for his gravel, “With that statement in place and on record, I open the floor for a vote. Do we begin to see testimony for articles of impeachment?”

The vote was quick, their departure from the cold and echoing room faster, but the news that followed was long and drawn out. The people were _angry_. They didn't know enough about politics to know that Stiles was moving at breakneck speed. They wanted Deucalion impeached _now_. They thought impeachment meant _removal _and _jail._ They thought it was a quick vote instead of a lengthy process that hopped from House, to Senate, to Trial, to... well, probably another round of mass murder. It all looked exhausting and inefficient and impossible at the moment.

Stiles had been letting other people he trusted figure shit out, so he wasn't the least bit shocked that he wasn't taken to a safe house or his home with Derek in the RV at the Virginia campsite. Instead, his pack had decided movement was too dangerous. They were staying at the capital in Stiles' office, which they had stripped of bugs and posted a rotating guard of only packmates around. After a certain point, no one was allowed near. Signs written in sharpy hung all along the hallway on the doors of dead congresspeople that warned that entering that space meant death without interrogation or warning.

Stiles walked into his office to find his pack had made a nest on the floor in front of his desk. The windows were boarded up with wood and sheets of metal torn from what looked to be a shipping container. His couch was reserved for an eating space, his desk was his workspace, and pillows and blankets stolen from abandoned offices were piled on the floor. Stiles collapsed into it, smelling where Scott had gotten sweaty and rolled in it to make his scent dominant, and fell instantly to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: This is where I issue a WARNING, because in past stories people have taken extreme issues with this subject to the point of me having to delete the story to avoid the drama. I'm about to talk lactating, and consensual nursing between adults. Derek is what you would probably consider a Little, with Lydia as his Big/Mommy, although I don't go into the kink culture much in this story. As such he nurses on her throughout this series in a non-sexual way. I personally find nursing on someone sexy af, but Derek does NOT and I believe both views are possible and respectful. I'm going to delete comments shaming either kinky nursing or comfort nursing or feeding of actual babies. Breast milk isn't DIRTY, but it is a bodily fluid so if you like nursing please get all parties tested and remember that moms- biological or kinky- with babies deserve respect and a safe/clean place to nurse their babies.

Lydia brought several suitcases because she had no idea how long she was going to need to stay with Derek, and she brought the waterproof ones because she had no idea if they had _room_ for her. She was half-convinced that Stiles and Derek were Agoraphobic because they loved to squish into small spaces and call it home. Maybe they were actually werehermitcrabs.

Braeden picked Lydia up at a train station in North Carolina and they took a train to the lowest point, got on a bus, and took that to South Carolina. Lydia was handed some sub-par fake ID and told that her name was Lilith. Derek had to have picked that. Then they hopped on a fresh bus and were joined by Liam, Derek, and _itty bitty baby Talia!!_

Lydia lost it, cooing over her and snuggling her close. She was barely paying attention to the ID's shoved in her face to silently show her their new names. Derek was John, Liam was Tom, and Braeden was Kesha. It was all super cliché and she didn't care because of _baby. _

Lydia had had a baby of her own once, but she'd been sixteen and scared and not allowed to abort because how _dare_ an omega not fulfill her purpose in life of being a bearer of babies? She'd given her up for adoption, but the shame of having had a baby and _not _raised her had led to her entire town abusing her. She'd left Quakertown in the dust and ended up a truck stop prostitute in an attempt to survive. Drugs, alcohol, and violent abuse had been her life for a while until Peter had found her. He loved his lot lizards, but he wasn't a cruel man. He'd seen how intelligent she was and had offered to put her through rehab. He promised that if she made it he'd give her the seed money to start a business of her own. He didn't care what kind, but he'd suggested pimp since she 'there needed to be more proper omega pimps out there taking care of the needs of others'. She'd made it through rehab, collected a few omegas she knew would be loyal including Derek, and started pimping them out with a mind for business and respect for her people. Derek thought of her as a mother, and quite literally latched onto her throughout his life. Even after he'd stopped whoring after becoming an alpha he'd still called on her for comfort and love.

It was amazing to see where her precious little boy had gone in life. She'd never expected him to become an omega again, but she was glad he had. He was happier, his husband was going to change the world for the better, and they had a _baby!_ Lydia wouldn't ever bear children again, she wasn't cut out for _real _parenting, but being the amazing grandma to this cutie? DONE.

“Oh, look at you! Oh, you're beautiful! So sweet! Gods, son, look at those lil bow lips! Oh, you're so hungry! Aren't you?”

“I'm not making enough milk, momma,” Derek told her softly, his voice low and filled with shame.

“Well, it takes a village, they say,” She shrugged, “Are you going to supplement with formula? It's easier to digest. Of course, I still have plenty of milk if you'd like to share it with her, but that's your call. I've been tested, just in case she's not a werewolf and you're worried about safety.”

Derek looked so relieved that Lydia didn't even wait for his answer- he'd probably not give one anyway- and just pulled her top up and nursing bra down. Talia latched on with a vengeance and suckled hungrily while Lydia smiled down at her.

“That's right, baby. Grandma takes lots of vitamins to give you yummy milk. Listen, son of mine, stop blaming yourself. You're under a lot of stress, had major hormonal fluctuation in the last year, and are separated from your mate. Those _all_ mess with milk supply.”

“You kept _yours_ up,” Derek replied jealously.

“I worked at it, and I haven't been through what you have. Trust me. You're an amazing parent, and there's no shame in low production. That happens to the best carriers! Momma is here to make it all better.”

The bus had bucket seats so Derek couldn't snuggle her the way he wanted, but he managed to lay his head on her shoulder and watch Talia eat happily. It helped to have Talia's sleepy eyes on him. It made him feel more like the parent still, despite not feeding her himself. The other passengers were relieved that Talia wasn't fussing anymore and the bus descended into silence as night fell. People fell asleep around them and Lydia watched the two exhausted bodyguards succumb to their distressed states of the last 36 hours. She let them sleep. She had two guns and a banshee scream if she needed them, although she'd avoid the last since it could harm little Talia. She knew from their bus tickets where they were going to get off and had slept on her own flight in so she was well-rested and happy to watch over them.

Hours later she kicked Liam awake and he jolted upright, nearly toppling out of the seat. Derek was nursing Talia this time, after having changed her because _grandmas didn't do that_, and he looked much better for having slept. They all did, even if Braeden and Liam wanted to be all guilty over it.

They got off the bus and tiredly tromped to a bench where they stacked their luggage and blinked around themselves tiredly. Derek was burping Talia and looking distressed and exposed. Lydia shifted closer and put an arm around him in comfort.

“Where now?” She asked, getting the overwhelmed security detail moving.

“Oh, um,” Liam rubbed at his face and groaned, “To coffee.”

“Hell, yes,” Derek grumbled, “Talia can tolerate a decaf.”

Lydia smiled fondly, “Okay. A nice diner it is. We'll get some food and drink into us and smile and laugh and be normal for a bit.”

Derek gave her an annoyed look but went along with it. Liam, Derek, and Braeden's phones were gone for safety's sake so that they couldn't be tracked. Lydia's phone was jailbreaked to the point of being some sort of miniature supercomputer and she refused to discard it. It was safe. She used it to find a diner within walking distance and no one complained. They really needed to stretch their legs after all the travel. It was safer to talk on the street than in a cafe where they could be overheard so they made plans on the way. They were Charleston, a nice big city in the south. Someplace too big for them to be noticeable and too small to include a heavy political presence. Most would expect them to go North where areas were more werewolf friendly, or stick to Derek's trucker routes, but Derek knew that routine and predictability would get his baby killed.

The diner food was delicious, if only because they'd been living on fast food for too long. Derek had a huge salad and then a high carb cheese sandwich to keep his milk up. Lydia had nearly the same, and the two of them passed the baby back and forth between them. The waitress assumed that Derek and Lydia were Talia's parents and the two betas were their key holders. They thought Braeden was an alpha, which was a common mistake made by humans who couldn't sniff an alpha out. Braeden acted 'like an alpha', according to most people. As far as Lydia was concerned it was just more proof that the system was ridiculous and broken. The only reason they knew that Derek and Lydia were omegas were because of their scent. They were just as badass as Braeden was. They didn't deserve to be _repressed _for smelling yummy. Alphas could learn to control themselves, Stiles was proof of that. He hadn't even claimed Derek, a process that would have been harmless during his healing process until the omega was ready again. She was content to leave Derek in Stiles' care and glad that he had trusted her with his omega when he couldn't be there.

“She's so hungry,” Derek worried when he passed Talia back to Lydia again.

“I have plenty of milk, honey. Everything is fine. She's cluster feeding for comfort. She wants you, but I have more milk so she's going back and forth.”

“What if she forgets _him_?” Derek whispered in horror.

“She's a baby, she doesn't remember her toes exist once you finish changing her diaper,” Lydia scoffed, “What's important is that she feels _love _at all times. She's not hurting for love and she never will. Once he gets back into the picture she's going to bond with him again and it will be wonderfully adorable. Like those puppy videos when soldiers come home.”

Derek had pulled thousands of dollars from a bank before meeting up with Lydia, something they'd had to detour to do to avoid being tracked, and he'd bought traveler's checks and VISA gift cards galore. They were untrackable for now. They reserved a room in a motel in Charleston, called an uber, disguised themselves with Lydia's makeup, and headed for a peaceful rest.

Liam and Braeden were sure they'd made things safe for Derek by the time they got there. They turned on the news and watched in horror for a few minutes before turning it off and laying down to rest. Lydia and Derek snuggled into one bed, Talia in a co-sleeper cot beside it, and Braeden and Liam took the other queen. There was a microwave, coffee maker, and television to keep them sane and comfortable. Derek would have preferred a fridge as well, but anyplace nicer might be too obvious. They would stay a week and then find a new place. Sleeping in a strange location was stressful for a werewolf, but Derek and Liam were too exhausted for it to bother them. For now.

XXX

Noah grimaced down at the cot he was about to throw himself down into and then did it anyway. It was hard as hell, but thank fuck he was horizontal. He'd spent hours calming down riots, fighting side by side with strangers who quickly became family, and trying his best not to think about anything. He'd almost been numb when he'd found out that Stiles was alive. It had been a relief, of course, but it had also been exhausting. He knew he was still in danger and there was little he could do, but at least his pack was with him. Noah had never really figured himself out in regards to werewolves. He'd loved one, but she'd abandoned and betrayed him. Made him the 'other man' in her relationship with Spencer Reid's father. He'd found them confusing and scary when it came to both keeping them safe and arresting them. He'd felt both pity and rage towards Peter when he'd gone mad, killed people, and bitten Scott. He loved Scott as a son, but he didn't understand him. He'd never once, not in his whole life, understood Stiles. He loved him, though, and his relief was palpable if buried beneath 48 hours of exhaustion.

So he slept. And slept. And slept. And when someone tried to wake him up he rolled over and grunted a no. He wasn't legally employed, he didn't have to get up when told.

He slept a solid 11 hours and woke up so sore he could barely move one arm, but it had settled his mind again. He could finally think straight and he had one goal in mind: get to Derek. Stiles had his pack around him, and he wanted to check in with him, but he had left Derek in his care and he'd lost him. So Noah stepped out of the room they'd set up with emergency bunks and faced the world, still stinking of sweat and tear gas. He walked up to the highest rank he saw put on a paternal smile.

“Hello, sir, it's been a privilege working with you and your people,” He stated as they shook hands.

“Likewise, but that sounds an awful lot like goodbye,” The Captain frowned.

“It has to be, I'm afraid. I need a way to contact a government official. I know we have working com lines, and I've got a kid on Capital Hill. I need to find out where his mate is so I can make sure all the family is together and safe.”

The Captain smiled warmly and shook his head, “Oh, son, I know who you are and who you need to contact which is exactly why I let you stay on. Boys?”

It stunned him. He'd been shoulder to shoulder with these men for two solid days. He thought they'd had that brothership bond that cops got together, the reason they called it a fraternity, but he'd been wrong. They didn't even let him draw his gun before they took him down like a dog.

XXX

Stiles was working through paperwork and phone calls when he wasn't making speeches. He ate when people put food in front of him, trusting that his pack would keep him safe from poison or starvation. He only minimally fought when they forced him to take a whore's bath in a bucket in the hall bathroom. Scott fought when he called it a whore's bath instead of a bird's bath. Stiles laughed it off. His mate was a former pro, he'd say whatever he wanted. So Scott made him sleep and he woke up less volatile.

Then the call came in. Noah was in a hospital, and the people who put him there were city fucking officials. Cops who he'd fought side by side with. Stiles was angry and hurt and shaking with fear, but worse was what they were saying on the phone.

Over a year ago Spencer had had to make a call. The good work he was doing or the man he loved. In the face of Stiles' broken heart, of knowing what he might lose, he'd told Stiles that being a politician was more important than his family. Stiles hadn't fully believed him, because his _mate was dying_ at the time, but even Derek had said the same thing. Stiles was in the unique position of being able to change the perspectives of the people around him. At the time it was Spencer's decision on the line. Now it was Stiles' decision.

“If you want your dad to come home to you, you'll resign from your post and let Congressman Philips step up as Speaker for the House.”

“It doesn't even work that way,” Stiles stated, voice as cold and calm his he could make it, “Speaker has to be voted in. There are judges filling the empty positions, and they're scared out of their minds. You think they'll vote in a person on the same party as the guy who wiped out hundreds of people?”

“You don't know that! IT'S NOT TRUE!” The man shouted.

“Your belief in the truth is not something I can argue,” Stiles stated, “My father's safety is. I can't meet your demands. I won't surrender this country under terroristic threat. What I can do, is put your name, face, and that of your family's on the news. People will see that you are a traitor, that you've resorted to threatening a Sheriff in order to control our great democracy. You can and will be reduced to a fugitive within hours.”

“We're the fucking police, you can't just stop us. Who are you going to get to take us down, huh? Your werewolves? You'll just prove that they're the monsters Deucalion says!”

“You aren't the police anymore,” Stiles stated, tone intentionally bored, “It's going to take me a whopping hour to get you listed as suspended and have you brought in. Without pay, in case you were wondering.”

“You don't get this, do you?” The man scoffed, “It's not just _us locally. _It's all of us.”

Stiles had grown up surrounded by police, so he knew well the disdain people had for them and that made him sick and angry. He'd never argue that the system wasn't broken or founded on flawed principals: it was. But it was the system they _had _at the moment so he was honor-bound to support it.

Until it fucking threatened his dad. Stiles wasn't Spencer Reid. He wasn't a cold, brilliant FBI agent who risked it all for the greater good. He was many things: trucker, politician, transalpha, son, father, mate, and so much more.

He was also fucking pissed.

“Okay,” Stiles stated calmly, “From this moment on you are no longer talking to Stiles the politician. You're talking to Stiles the son.”

“Go on,” He replied, smarmy and assured.

“Write a will because I'm fucking coming for you.”

Stiles hung up the phone and slowly rose to his feet, eyes casting out about his packmates scattered around him. His eyes were red, he could _feel _the bags beneath his eyes, and there was a monstrous amount of alpha hormones pumping through his veins. Scott took several steps back and Allison let out a slow breath as she fought the urge to _run_ like the prey the human was.

“Stiles?” Erica asked softly.

Stiles pointed to Kira, Erica, and Jackson, “You three are coming with me.”

“What are they doing?” Hotchner asked.

“Obeying,” Stiles snapped, “I suggest you do that as well.”

“Stiles,” Spencer started, “What about-”

“No.”

“Stiles-” Spencer started to plead.

“You know what's different between you and I?” Stiles growled when he tried to step in front of him again, “You're an analyst. You find solutions and other people usually do the work towards it. You work as a team. You follow. I lead.”

“That's not exactly-” Spencer tried again, but Stiles' snarl cut him off.

“I lead and I get hands on. I mother my pack, and I love my family to the exclusion of all other things. If mom had been with me when she fell apart she wouldn't be in Bennington, she'd be in my house with bars on the windows if necessary and she'd never lack for a single damn thing.”

Reid's eyes hardened, “She doesn't lack. I did what I thought was best.”

“Yes, you did,” Stiles nodded sharply, “And I'm not saying it wasn't the right thing. I'm saying I'd have done things differently, and I'd have been _just as successful _as you've been. So trust me to be her son. Trust me to use my big brain and make it work. Do you trust me, Spencer?”

“I... yes,” He nodded and stepped aside, “It doesn't make sense, but I do.”

“Good, now someone bring me bandages.”

“How much?” Boyd asked.

“Literally all of them,” Stiles stated, removing his tie and top dress shirt, “And someone get me Deaton here. Now. I want miracle speed, got it?”

“What else do you need?” Spencer asked, on board to support him, “Let me in, Stiles. Let me be the analyst.”

Stiles grinned slowly, “Know where I can find a big ass metal feed trough and a fuck-ton of ice?”

A/N For the record, my views and Stiles' views on politics are not the same. Mine wouldn't fit his character and his wouldn't fit mine.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N My depression has finally lifted. I still miss my grandfather and dog, but I'm moving forward like they would want me to do. My ex is out of my life for good, which means she can't hurt me anymore. I've got my strength back and I'm scrubbing my house and my mind clean. thank you all for your support. It meant a lot to see a hearts or words in the comments to let me know you were here when I was feeling so alone. 

Noah was a prisoner. He had cuffs on one wrist and someone had announced to the media that he was a political prisoner. He was accused of murdering a congressman. He didn't really know the details: how or when didn't seem to be relevant. They were trying to pin it on Stiles as well and destroy his reputation and Noah was waiting to talk to someone. He needed to straighten it out, even if it meant confessing and saying he was working for Deucalion if there was too much fake evidence against him.

He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he'd make it work. Somehow. He'd rather go to jail than let Stiles' life be ruined by him _again. _He just had to-

Noah blinked. And blinked again. Then rubbed his eyes and sat up in the bed despite his protesting shoulder, because a _fucking mummy _had just walked into his room!

A hulking figure, covered in bandages and radiating power (yeah, he'd just thought those words) was standing in his doorway. It stared towards him in silence for a moment and then groaned out in a raspy, deep voice.

“Noah John Stilinski Dad.”

“Yeah?” Noah stated, a bit unsure.

“Noah John Stilinski Dad.”

“I'm gonna say no if you keep saying it like that cause I ain't nobody's daddy but my son's and you aren't him.”

“Fear not. Come dragon or giant, we'll be ready.”

“Okay, now I'm positive Stiles is behind this. Is my son safe?”

The lumbering figure stepped in fully and turned to face the doorway. It remained silent. A few minutes later a second one entered. Then a third. The other two were silent despite him shouting at them, but the first one moved towards him and broke the cuff off his his arm as gently as possible. Then it resumed guard duty. One was by the window. Two were by the door. Noah laid back and waited, because there really wasn't much else he could do. He had a bullet wound in his shoulder and three mummies in the room. It wasn't like he could do much about it.

Eventually the moment of truth emerged when a nurse opened the door, saw them all and screamed in horror.

“Wait, I know you,” One of them spoke.

Stillness from them. Eerie motionlessness. Inhuman quiet.

“Uh...” She struggled, “I'm a nurse here? Jane?”

“Stay out of trouble, elf.”

“Okay,” She edged slowly into the room, but her screams had brought others.

“Disrespect the law and you disrespect me!” The three shouted at once.

There was a lot of confusion and shouting, but when one of them produced a giant scorpion stinger and knocked a nurse straight onto the floor they vacated quickly enough. The person who had been stung was left abandoned on the floor, whimpering in fear and sobbing softly. However, Noah was no longer afraid, because he knew what that stinger meant.

“Hey, miss?” Noah called, “You're gonna be okay. The numbness will wear off and you'll be able to move again. It's kanima venom is all.”

“What do they w-want?”

  
“My safety, apparently,” Noah replied.

  
“You're an injured prisoner and I'm a nurse!”

“I'm being framed,” He explained, “And used as leverage against my son. You nurses are going to have to be smart. Don't swarm the room like that again. Tell your people that to check on me they need to come in one or two at a time. Announce yourselves.”

“Then we won't check on you! This isn't safe!”

“It's not harmful, either,” He replied, his shoulder beginning to really hurt, “Except for to my shoulder. He didn't react until you all freaked out and he thought I was being threatened.”

The nurse was eventually able to rise, and she fled when she could, sobbing as she left. He felt for her, but he had no control over this situation.

XXX

_ **Today's Breaking Story: Did Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski break the law by posting a guard at the bedside of his father, recently accused of attempted assassination?** _

_ **In Today's 11th Hour: Savior of Democracy, or Renegade Spark?** _

_ **Scandal tarnishes the reputation of the Speaker of the House.** _

_ **Does Packmate Law allow for an extreme response during a political crisis?** _

“Mr. Stilinski!” A reporter called as Stiles stepped into the hall on his way to another vote.

“That's Hale-Stilinski,” Stiles replied calmly, “Or just Hale. We never changed it after I transitioned. What can I do for you, Marjorie?”

“Mr. Stilinski, why are your packmates wearing such alarming costumes at the hospital?”

Stiles blinked, “Packmates? My packmates are all here with me, guarding my mate, or in hiding fearing for their lives. Nobody is in a costume at the hospital.”

XXX

“Look, if I get the masks off of them and show you that there are _people_ underneath, will you lot relax?” Noah pleaded. He was in agony, really needing his damn pills, and they were all hovering outside the door staring in like a bunch of rubbernecking pains in the ass. Or shoulder, as the case may be.

“If we can just _talk _to them,” One pleaded.

“Pretty sure they've been given a script,” Noah laughed, “From a video game. It's my son's way of avoiding a reporter getting a sound bite that he doesn't want out, probably. Look, let me just get their faces exposed. Come here, you... Jackson, probably. Come here, Jackson.”

The one that had a lizard tail, now hidden, moved towards him in that eerily silent way that implied ghosts and nightmares. He was telling them apart by how the bandages laid. The product of being in the police force for so long; he could tell similar features apart even when hidden to a certain extent.

'Jackson' approached his bedside, but didn't make things easier for him. He didn't kneel or lean down. So Noah pushed the button to sit up higher, even though raising his shoulder up above a certain angle made it throb angrily. He reached with his good arm, hissing in pain as he twisted, and grabbed a bandage. Curse Stiles and his theatrics. He found the end after a bit of rooting around making him swear as whatever Stiles had attached them with felt gritty on his fingers. He peeled it down slowly to reveal...

“Stiles? Stiles!” Noah laughed, and then instantly panicked, “What the hell are you doing here, you're a sitting duck! Get the hell out of here! You lot! Get him out of here!”

Noah shouted at what he assumed were Stiles' body guards. However, when he'd unraveled the one, the other two had unraveled themselves and they didn't have to turn for him to recognize the back of his son's head... in double. The nursing staff looked terrified, and once he saw the backs of the triplets he turned back to the one he'd uncovered himself. He didn't look like Stiles, but he also did. A perfect copy, of his son's face but somehow _off_. The were blank and empty, but the dark rings around his eyes made them imposing and demonic. Noah settled back into the bed, watching this being that wore his son's features, and let out a slow breath.

“You gotta let the nurses in or there's no point in me being in a hospital. Either let them in or carry me out. Got it?”

He wanted to see how much they'd listen to him, and it worked. The creature moved back to the other facing the door, turned his back on him, and dropped down to one knee. The one by him dropped to one knee as well. The third by the window stayed standing, but he had his back to all of them so he was less imposing.

A nurse slowly edged in, syringe in hand, and let out a slow breath. Noah met her eyes as she eased forward and put the syringe to his port.

“I don't think I have to tell you that if that's going to kill me you won't make it out of this room alive. If one of them has a kanima tail, then they all have werewolf senses. They'll know the second my heart struggles.”

“It's morphine,” She promised.

“It better be. For your sake.”

XXX

“Where is the packmate named Jackson?” One asked, “He's the Kanima in your pack, yes? Who might have stung and temporarily paralized a nurse at the hospital? There aren't many Kanimas out there...”

Stiles gestured over his shoulder and Jackson smirked and gave her a very unsubtle wink and a flash of scorpion/lizard tail. The reporters all waited with baited breath, expecting Stiles to ramble like usual, but Stiles just waited them out. This wasn't the campaign trail. He didn't have to be charming right now. He had to be _right_, and half of reading what the people needed to hear was knowing what the reporters were going to ask: and Stiles didn't know right now. There was so much news, from so many angles, and he was so, so tired.

“You look tired,” Rachel from MSNBC stated. She was long winded, so he waited for more from her, and sure enough she followed it up with a question, “It can't be easy walking the halls where your fellows recently died, taking on so many responsibilities. How are you holding up?”

A few people around her rolled their eyes, but she was _smart. _She was encouraging him to babble like he usually did and also getting him to defend his health and sanity during this situation without actively implying he'd lost his head over his dad.

“Well, I'm exhausted, disappointed in the process, and missing my mate, but I have my pack around me and they're amazing people. Overall I'm doing well.”

“You don't look well,” She insisted.

“I'd call you rude, but I've seen a mirror recently. I know I look awful. My life force is being drained.”

“I'm sorry, your.... life force?” Now the people around her perked up.

“Yeah, pretty steadily, but I'm a werewolf so this won't kill me. Won't even distract me. Just makes me a bit tired. It's like I took too much Adderal,” Stiles joked, slipping in a slight smile despite the seriousness.

“What's draining your life force?” Rachel followed up, and the other reporters let her have another because he was answering and they knew he could be fickle and walk off at a moment's notice.

“The golems guarding my dad,” He stated.

The reporters went wild and he had to coax them to calm down, promising them all answers. He had time. He was leading shit now, he could take ages to answer questions if he wanted to.

“I heard someone say what is a golem: a golem is a clay being brought to life to protect the Jewish people. I know, I know, I'm atheist, but genetics don't care about that and I _do _believe in the supernatural so here we are.”

“Did you bring it to life?” John from one of his favorite new stations asked.

“Sure did.”

“Why?” One asked, while another shouted over her, “Do you believe this tyrannical move will garner you votes next election?”

Stiles laughed bitterly, “Buddy, I'm trying to _survive _to next election, or did you miss the part where most of my co-workers are_ dead._ These are the kinds of times that define us, that show us for who we _truly _are. I'm not a paper-pushing politician, I'm a bar-brawling trucker and I act like one when my back is to the wall. I got a phone call earlier today from a police captain trying to influence my vote and actions during the upcoming impeachment: a transcript will be released to all of you as soon as my office has the time in the name of transparency. That man was using my father as leverage. Now, as you know the White House and Capital do _not _negotiate with terrorists. I have FBI staff in my pack, but I chose to handle it myself. He's in a hospital, so his release wasn't the issue. The threat to his safety was, the threat to use him and abuse him. So I contacted a Druid and asked for help performing an old Jewish spell. To my surprise, the Druid was willing to help.”

Silence. Stunned silence. The man who had asked the negatively leading question looked absolutely floored. Well he should. Having the help of a druid had _implications. _

“Was the druid coerced?” The man tried weakly, getting a few disgusted glances for his efforts.

Stiles barked out a laugh, “You can't coerce a druid. They stand for neutrality, and keep the balance to support the land. He'd _die _before he'd let me use him in any way, and he'd probably take me out with him. I would send him Deucalion's way, but it just doesn't work that way. You know what this means as much as I do. If a _druid_ is helping me, _actively helping me _instead of just being mysterious and giving me leading answers, than that's because my opponent has thrown the balance of the area off. _Waaaaay off. _What area am I in? Not just Beacon Hills anymore, or even California, nope. My current territory is _America, _baby. So who threw off America?”

Silence. A few people were shifting uncomfortably. He had to look intense with his eyes so drawn they looked sunken and darkened and his gaze intensified by righteous alpha anger. They weren't outright glowing red, but they had a sheen to them that was almost a flash at times. He had his answers though. The people were scared, but not just of the monster in the White House. They were scared of the actions of Congress as well. This was confusing to them, and no wonder given the failing education system. Stiles had to empower them to take action or they'd never make it through this hurdle.

“Any more questions? No? Okay, let me just give you all one more soundbite. I know that my efforts here are going to be stymied in the Senate. You know that. The people know that. What they don't know is that this doesn't stop here. It stops with _the people_. You have a voice. Use it. And I don't just mean to protest. There will be an emergency vote to replace members of Congress and the Senate in the next few days. I know it's inconvenient and that voter suppression is a thing, but _get out there_. And help your neighbors get out there, and don't just do it for those you know are Democrats. Do it for everyone. Get them to the DMV to get ID's and register to vote, and then get them to the polls.

“This is a time in our country when Democracy is being threatened, being attacked, being torn asunder. People think Democracy is perfect, but it isn't. Democracy rides on the backs of the people, and the people are not perfect. Other democracies have fallen to fascism, to violence and hate. Not ours. We won't let it.

“Now is the time when we must show our true colors. There are people being thrown in cages and having their rights violated. Protect them. Stand up, pull out your phone, and record it. Cell phone carriers are re-establishing today and tomorrow and what you witness _will be seen and heard. _You _can _make a difference. Call your Senators and tell them how to vote, and don't forget that they _work for you_. Tell them that what's going on here is a violation of your constitutional rights. You require representation in the House _and _Senate.

“Most of all, do _not _lose hope. We're fucking _Americans_. We're loud, we're rude, we have a young country that shouldn't be held back by barely-established traditions and I for one _refuse_ to let her fall _now_. Not on my watch. So Mr. Not-My-President, this is me putting you on notice. Your ascent to power is _not_ part of some divine plan. We're not just a 34 year old House Speaker, we're not just a handful of judges and congresspeople, we're not just a nation of dozens of different nationalities, races, and religions. We. Are. _America._ We are 243 years old, you can't kill _us_.”

XXX

Stiles was a man who had lived in libraries and YMCA's when he wasn't in his truck with Derek. He was almost entirely self-educated throughout his adolescence and self-motivated through his adulthood. He was stubborn and strong and had knowledge in all areas because he was sure he'd need it at some point in time. He was usually right. He was an atheist by practice, but Jewish by birth.

Deaton couldn't be miracled in like Stiles wanted, but they worked their magic by using Stiles' reissued government cell to contact Beacon Hills police station, pull him over on his way to a house call, and harass him into a video call. Then he pulled out a truly unnatural amount of playdough from a cabinet, which garnered an alarmed look from the normally stoic Deaton. Then he brought his chosen packmates in, filled three tubs with water and ice, and settled down into it with minimal unmanly shrieks.

Three hours later he had three golems before him, all wearing his face but with the powers of his three most terrifying and diverse packmates.


	12. Chapter 12

Everything felt as if it were moving at a snail's pace, but Stiles knew historically this was far faster than most investigations into a president's actions took place. That said, every day that Deucalion was in office was a test of Stiles' ability to not just _go off. _He was constantly pushing the boundaries of sanity, yet acting as if everything he was doing was _normal for a president. _

The FBI was investigating the murders and slowly arresting a person here and there. Congress was calling in associates to testify under oath, and the President was making a statement on the lawn about refusing to allow people to testify as if he had a _choice. _Which meant the courts had to decide if the president _could, in fact,_ tell people they didn't have to respond to a subpoena, which drew things out further. Then Deucalion would get on a plane and fly to another country and talk to their leaders as if he was supposed to be in charge, and they just had to accept it to save face and political power because he could slap them with a sanction like an angry kid with a bat in a pinata store. He was charismatic when he needed to be, authoritative, and could spin a tale a mile long. Stiles could see why people were falling for him, he just couldn't allow it to continue.

The man was responsible for so much death and so much destruction. His political actions were far-reaching and while some things admittedly _were _improving, many of those jolts to the economy were going to be predictably short-lived and others were downright harmful.

He was in the process of placing a man on the supreme court, and this was what scared Stiles more than even the murders did. That was a lifelong nomination. Whoever he put in that position could affect the world for generations to come, long after Deucalion either was impeached, voted out, resigned or was finally arrested as he deserved. Whoever he put there would be _his person, _and they'd be able to change laws, make decisions for the entire country, and alter the future of Stiles' children and grandchildren. As far as Stiles was concerned it was a more powerful position than the president. A president was at most an eight-year position. It had checks and balances in place. There were some for the supreme court, but mostly in the nomination process. Once that person got on- and he was a shoe-in despite people protesting against it- the only way out was death or impeachment.

Stiles pushed to have him blocked until the legitimacy of the president could be established, which of course delayed the _actual impeachment proceedings _by bringing up a whole other legal issue. Meanwhile, the emergency vote to get more actual congressmen was underway. Judges and lawyers across the country had jumped at the chance, but so had a few Hollywood stars. As a kid, Stiles had _adored_ television and movies, and in truth, he was still weak for them. He was sure in a few years he'd be inundated with cartoons and his former movies would fade into the past, but for now, it was a mixture of frustrating and exciting to see his heroes walking through the doors with the intent of saving the country.

The frustration was due to the Dunning-Kruger Effect. These were people dwelling in privilege who often started in mediocrity, so they knew two worlds and had the same knowledge he did about how inequality could destroy lives and getting out of poverty was often based on luck rather than actual hard work. They all knew someone who had been _better _than they had been, but whose look, gender, sex, sexuality, or just overall lack of contacts had meant they never rose to fame.

It also meant they had no _real _idea of politics, but enough basic knowledge to _be aware_ of the situation... and enough pride to think they knew more than they actually did. It was a toxic mess that made them infuriatingly influential but basically useless. Stiles kept saying he'd take them under his wing if they got in, but most of them just laughed politely when he mentioned helping them get the hang of things. They thought they knew everything already, just because they'd had a look at Wikipedia and searched a few political terms. They also still either thought of him as a helpless omega, were adamantly anti-transgender, or treated him like a kid.

He wasn't sure if they'd help or hinder, but they _meant_ to help, so that was something. They were currently securing more votes than people who had the kind of knowledge that Stiles had and that was frustrating him. He had spent his life studying politics from the time he was just a pre-teen. He knew his shit. He loved his country. He wanted what was best for his people. It wasn't a moment in the spotlight for him, it was his choices affecting the country for the next 200 years. Hopefully for the better.

XXX

Derek felt a bit selfish nursing off of Lydia, but once his daughter had her fill Lydia argued that the more he nursed the more she'd make. So he'd settled down into bed with Talia nestled between them and lazily suckled on her as she petted his hair. Sometimes she talked, sometimes she hummed or sang, but most often she read to him in a soft voice until he fell asleep and then kept watch over Talia so he could rest.

When he was awake he fretted and felt useless despite his all-important role of caring for Talia. He wanted to be out there with Stiles. If he weren't protecting their baby he could at the very least guard Stiles' father, if not Stiles himself. He could hold his husband at night and make him feel safe while he slept so he didn't look like a fucking zombie. It broke his heart to see his mate struggling so and not be able to comfort him. Stiles needed to vent to someone he could trust, it was part of being a motor-mouthed spaz.

Not only did he miss being something besides a house-spouse, but he also painfully missed _Stiles._ He missed holding him, breathing in his scent, and the sound of his voice. As time passed he missed his _body_ as well, as Derek's had recovered from childbirth and finally achieved enough sleep to be functional. He would see him on the television and be struck with just how long it had been since he'd last been beneath his lover, been properly taken care of himself, had an ounce of relief and bonding with the man he loved. They'd been so distracted by the baby, and before that the pregnancy, and before that the election. Stiles had done as he'd promised and made sure that there was time for Derek each day, but in retrospect there was never enough time. He recalled well how Stiles had said the same after the accident: that they could live a thousand lifetimes and never have enough of each other. When apart every single fight felt stupid and insignificant. The brief time considering divorce seemed laughable now. They were two parts of a pair, and apart they just didn't _work_ well.

“He'll be fine,” Lydia soothed, “Focus on your little bundle of joy. Talia is all who matters now.”

“I know,” Derek breathed out, “It's just so hard to be away from him.”

“I know,” Lydia replied, and her tone of voice implied more than he knew.

“Please tell me you aren't mooning over Peter,” Derek groaned, “He's such a sleazeball.”

“No,” Lydia laughed lightly, “He gave me only heartache and a rendered womb.”

Derek went still in alarm, “Malia?”

“No, no, I'm not that old, how dare you!” She swatted him scornfully, “I never named my daughter, nor do I know where she is. She was the first and last, and a complication destroyed my ability to have more. I have no regrets, but Peter and I ended our relationship as customer and whore when I got my law degree. I have no intention of seeing him ever again, either as lovers or acquaintances. He's been polite enough not to heckle me.”

“So who?” Derek asked, and then paused. Lydia was very private, despite freely sharing her milk and time with him. He hadn't even known she was going to school until she'd offered Stiles her services as a lawyer after passing the Bar, “I mean...”

“It's fine,” She soothed, “I'm used to playing close to the cuff, you know? Keeping my secrets while being intimate so that I'm safe but alluring. It's a habit I need to stop, especially with you, my sweet little boy. He was a cop. One of the ones who utilized me rather than arrest me. Most of them I tend to resent, you know? All cops are bastards and all.”

“Mm,” Derek nodded, confused by her assertion. They both hated police with a vengeance and it had driven a wedge between Derek and Noah for years. Stiles was much put upon to ignore the arguing during holidays, and himself sat on the fence about Derek's ACAB insistence.

“Still,” Lydia sighed, “He just... I can't help but love him. I'll never agree with the archaic institution, but he makes life sweeter for me. Worth living. Worth fighting.”

“Worth not whoring?” Derek wondered.

“Nah,” She shrugged, “My tired cunny was worth not doing that anymore.”

Derek laughed and she chuckled a bit, “It really does get old eventually.”

“Honestly! I still have the hormones of an omega, because my ovaries are still there, but I swear! There were days I was as dry as the Sahara no matter how good he smelled!”

Derek chuckled, “During the first trimester of my pregnancy I was this sickly mess, always wanting to eat but never able to keep it down. Stiles was mad with lust because there I was, evidence of his fertility, newly claimed, smelling of perfect omega, and if he tried to so much as rub my feet I'd bite him!”

Lydia laughed loudly and Talia startled awake. Instead of crying, however, she laughed along with her. Lydia and Derek stared down at her in awe.

“Her first laugh,” Derek whispered, and then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, my boy,” Lydia soothed, petting his cheek before scooping Talia up, “She won't wait for her daddy to come back. She's going to grow and grow faster than you like, but you _will_ be strong for her. Get out your phone. Open the camera. Let's tickle her belly and save a video for Stiles. Most parents miss out on seeing things like this while they're at work, so it's no different just because he's not coming home at five. You can do this. So can he. Put on a smile and remember: This is all for _her_.”

XXX

“NO JUSTICE! NO PEACE!”

Stiles was shoulder to shoulder with his people, _not _marching through the streets of Washington, ignoring the glimpses of people in black bandannas who were throwing bricks through windows. There wasn't even room to _move, _let alone march. Instead, various chants moved through the crowd, the rise and swell of voices moving in ripples through the city streets for miles in all directions.

“DUECALION NO! GO AWAY! RACIST! SEXIST! ANTI-GAY!”

Stiles couldn't see a street sign so he had only a vague idea of where he was based on the window of a nearby shop. His guards/pack were pressed against him like lovers, but so were strangers with signs either hung around their neck or tiredly held above them.

“NO DUKE! NO KKK! NO FASCIST USA!”

Stiles had no vote that day. It was usually the time when he'd return to California, but instead, he'd taken first to a stage to make a speech alongside various others and then to the streets. He felt a true equal here. His vote had just as much sway in the polls as those of the people sweating beside him. His feet were just as tired. He was just as claustrophobic, just as tired, just as frustrated with the failures in the courts in the past few days.

“SILENCE IS VIOLENCE! SILENCE IS VIOLENCE!”

XXX

“What these stubborn Democrats don't seem to get,” Deucalion laughed in front of the camera, “Is that I'm not going away. I'm not just a person, I'm a belief. The belief of my people. The strength of our history. The power of the human race. Even if they cut me down, another will rise up again. Them? They're all a bunch of _individuals_. All _unique. _All _different._ What happens when one of them falls, huh? Who replaces _them?_ No one. No one else has the same set of beliefs or morals or political aims! That's why they can't win, you see. They're so scattered. They don't even know what they believe. They're just rebelling for the sake of rebellion. I got here fair and square, true the circumstances were _awful, _no one is arguing that, but I didn't kill those people. Even if I did, I mean, come on! I'm Duecalion. I could shoot a man in broad daylight on the steps of the White House and no one would convict. They're just wasting tax payer money and my time. Which is _your_ time. Because I am a man of the _people, _and my time is your time. Remember that.”

XXX

His phone vibrated and he managed to lift it from his pocket, checking on the state of the world. An email? How... quaint. It was a video. _It was a video of Talia._ He could just barely hear the video over the sound of the crowd shouting, even with his werewolf hearing. It was a close up of her face to avoid any sort of identification of the room around her if someone else were to get a hold of it. Only her little grin, shining eyes, and glimpses of the baby blanket he and Derek had bought together; the one with silly monkeys making faces all over it. Someone cooed and he heard Derek say 'goochey-goochey-goo' as if he weren't a 6' tall trucker with resting bitch face. Then Talia laughed, shrill and happy and enthralled with her papa.

“HEY HEY! HO HO! DEUCALION HAS GOT TO GO!”

Stiles blinked back tears. He could feel broken and alone and miles from his little girl and mate, or he could feel renewed purpose and determination. Stiles was always the sort to go for the latter. He wanted a country his child could be proud of. He wanted a future that was sustainable agriculturally, ethically, and economically. He wanted peace to be possible, if not permanently than temporarily, and with the knowledge that it could be attained again if people would only _work _and _talk._

“IF WE DON'T GET IT! SHUT IT DOWN! IF WE DON'T GET IT! SHUT! IT! **DOWN!”**

There wasn't even a sound to warn him of the gunshot. Wasn't a dramatic moment in which his body spun, not with the crowd close pressed on all sides. No bright red spray of blood. The bullet hit him right between the eyes, a perfect shot that his bulletproof vest couldn't protect him against, from a far distance that his people couldn't predict the angle of even if they knew it was coming. He just went slack against Boyd's shoulder and slowly slid to the ground.

The difficulty with being a werewolf was that Stiles was hard to kill. Once upon a time a stranger in a leather jacket had reminded him of that. So even after a shot to the head with a wolfsbane bullet, which was most assuredly fatal to a werewolf, he didn't just _die_ immediately. He went slowly. He was able to see Scott's tears, hear Erica's scream, watch the look of horrified guilt blossom on Boyd's face. He got to open his mouth one last time and try to say a name, any name, but his brain was damaged and he couldn't summon the memory of who he was calling for before everything grew foggy... distant... cold... his vision shrinking into a small black dot... and finally... _nothing. _


	13. Chapter 13

It sounded like a film starting back up again back in the day when they had to wind that shit up. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so disorienting. Once Stiles' vision restored he blinked a few times and had to refocus on _one _set of eyes instead of the several sets that were left. One golem down. Two to go.

“My son,” Noah sobbed, “My son. Oh god, I c-can't...”

“Dad,” Stiles was lying on the ground on the hospital floor, feeling awkward and heavy. Apparently when he'd been shot the golems had collapsed. He tried to get up and fell back over again.

“Oh god, someone get them out of here!” Noah sobbed, “Those _things_ are wearing his face and-”

“I'm not a golem!” Stiles half crawled to the door and shoved it shut, “It was a trick, okay? This is really me.”

Noah's eyes widened, but at that moment a nurse came in, having responded to him pushing his call button when Stiles spoke. Stiles gestured wildly from behind the door and Noah started talking her out again. Stiles was making motions at him to give him a clue.

“I, uh, just need something to eat. Drink. _God_, I need a drink.”

“I can't give you liquor, not even at a time like this,” She replied, eyes sympathetic, “How about some tea?”

“Sure, that'd be great.”

“Okay,” She patted his arm gently, “I guess they'll be releasing you now that he's not...”

She stopped talking and Stiles smelled tears as she shuffled back out of the door. He hoped she wasn't the one Jackson/golem had stung. She seemed nice.

“Stiles?” Noah asked, watching in awe as Stiles staggered towards him on calf legs, “Stiles, that's you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles grinned weakly, “We knew there was an assassination attempt in the works so we figured that it was better if I wasn't where they thought I was. Where better than here?”

“So you've just been... standing there for a month?” Noah gaped, “When did you pee? When did you _eat?”_

“The spell is complicated,” Stiles grinned, “Well, the second one is. The golem that was impersonating me was running on Erica's life force and I was running on my own instead of eating or drinking, but I could see out it's eyes. That's why I look like shit. It's just these two now, though, so I'll feel less ragged. And I'm definitely parched and starved.”

“Who all knows you're here?” Noah asked after they had hugged again.

“Most of the pack knows. They'll be heading over to pick me up. Now I'll have to be more careful, but hopefully Deucalion won't try that method again. Two attempts to kill me have failed. I'm hoping now he realizes he's got to face me in the courts, not with weapons. I'm just so glad I got to see you. They were telling me it wasn't safe to visit. This is so unexpected no one will get in position in time to come after me. They'll think my body guards are coming over to tell you I'm dead, not to collect me. I'll slip out safely and from now on public appearances are going to be super limited.”

“So... who are they?” Noah glanced over Stiles' shoulder and Stiles chuckled.

“They're the essence of Kira and Jackson. They're running the golems I raised on their life energy which is why that one has a Kanima tail. I'm still going to be a bit drained because I'm maintaining the spell, but not like I was.”

“I gotta hand it to you, kid,” Noah shook his head, but just then Stiles heard the nurse approaching so he bolted into the bathroom to hide.

She dropped off the tea, offered him a sedative which he declined, and then headed back out again. Stiles stepped out into the room in time to see Noah preparing his tea for him. He was parched but it was hot so he sat in the chair and blew on it while shifting the bag anxiously. His hands were shaking a bit.

“I can't go through this again, Stiles,” Noah whispered, “It was my fault the first time I lost you, and then the accident, and now this?”

“You never lost me,” Stiles soothed, sipping his hot tea and burning his tongue, “Ow! They were just close calls.”

“Your luck is going to run out eventually, son.”

“You sound like Derek,” Stiles scowled.

“Why am I even still here, huh?” Noah switched tactics, “You keeping me here keeps me out of court, which keeps me out of prison, but puts _you_ in line for a scandal.”

“Everything I do is scandalous,” Stiles snarked.

Noah's phone rang and Stiles gave it a hopeful look while Noah grimaced and answered it with his sore arm. He was getting physical therapy in his room since moving him was such a dramatic affair with the golems following along, so he was feeling better but was definitely going to be stiff for the rest of his life.

“Stilinski,” He grunted.

“Mr. Stilinski, this is Erica Reyes,” Erica's voice drifted over to Stiles.

“I'm here,” Stiles whispered, just loud enough for Erica to pick it up but hopefully not loud enough for a wire tap to catch him since he was four feet away.

“I hope you're doing well, sir,” Erica stated formally.

“Well as can be expected,” Noah stated, voice heavy with emotion.

“Hungry,” Stiles grumbled.

“We were working to make sure that you could safely stay in the hospital, but since Stiles has been... well... it looks like we're going to have to remove you.”

“Translation: your sharp shooter left,” Stiles grinned eagerly.

“Am I heading to jail?” Noah asked in alarm, giving Stiles a frightened glance. Cops didn't make it long in prison.

“No, sir,” Erica replied, “Stiles had plans in place to put you on house arrest if you were able to be safely moved, and that was already in position before this happened. I'll be bringing your ankle monitor over, and it will be activated before we take you to stay at Lydia's home. She left us the keys but isn't home, so you'll be on your own there. What would you like for your first non-hospital meal?”

“Oh god, burgers,” Stiles whispered, “And curly fries.”

“A nice fresh salad,” Noah grinned wickedly.

“You _bastard!”_ Stiles gaped.

“You got it, sir,” Erica's voice sounded amused, “One salad coming up. Dressing?”

“Oil and vinegar.”

“Nooooo,” Stiles whimpered.

“Very good, sir,” Erica chuckled, then hung up the phone.

“Payback's a bitch,” Noah laughed, putting the phone back in the receiver.

“You are a cruel, cruel man,” Stiles whined.

A few hours later Erica, Scott, Boyd, and Jackson showed up. The whole BH gang, as Stiles liked to call them. They brought Noah's suitcase from the RV and walked him out the door with the three (technically two) golems following along behind them. Once they dropped him off at Lydia's home Stiles hugged his dad and changed into a suit. He headed out with an umbrella over his head to make shooting him in the head again a bit more difficult.

Heather met him in a limo downstairs driven by Theo. Heather started rattling off information at top speed, including the news station's latest headlines and Deucalion's smarmy response to Stiles' death.

“He's bragging,” She told him coldly, “It's shameful. His fans are _celebrating. _How can anyone like him?”

“He makes a point, and he did pass that one bill protecting-”

“You agree with him on something?” She asked sharply.

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Stiles shrugged, “Okay. So. Call me a press conference and we'll get things rolling again.”

“Can I remind you that you're _not _the president yet?”

“Oh gods, don't curse me with that higher office just yet. Seriously, though. Call the press and tell them I'm alive and to show up and take pictures.”

“You got it, Stiles,” She smiled warmly, and then paused nervously, “Um... this is probably a bad time, but...”

“What's up?” He wondered as he dug into a burger that Scott-The-Freaking-Savior produced. Scott, who was still sniffling awkwardly, “You big baby. You _knew _it wasn't me.”

“Still,” He gave Stiles a wobbly smile, “It _looked_ like you, smelled like you, it was _awful.”_

“It's just...” Heather started up nervously as Scott handed Stiles curly fries as well, “Your original mission. Your goal for doing everything. You'll still do that, right? Afterwards?”

Stiles smiled at her softly, “Your mate had an omega baby?”

“I got word yesterday,” She whispered, eyes wide with fear, “We're both betas. What are we going to do with an omega baby?”

Stiles' smile faltered, thinking of his own mother who had abandoned both her children when they'd emerged. How many were being put into homes at birth now that parents could find out immediately? How many orphanages were full of babies abandoned just for their gender? How many were drowned or sold or just abandoned in the streets?

“I haven't lost sight of my goals, Heather,” He promised, “They're just detoured for a few miles. Now then. How can we avoid me getting shot again? Because that special golem was so freaking special he included nerve endings and that _hurt!”_

“I want you to think about disappearing,” Scott hesitantly suggested, “You'll just be facing _more _scandal because of this. People are going to be furious that you tricked them. They're going to call your votes in Congress into question. You could be shot _for real. _If you just disappear now, take on a new identity, you and Derek and Talia could live peacefully for the rest of your lives.”

“Give up my home, my plans, my future, my pack, and just leave Deucalion to wreak havoc? No. I appreciate your concern, Scott-”

“Concern?! I watched you _die!”_

Stiles put down his burger, wiped his mouth, and hugged his brother tightly, “It's going to be okay. I won't take those kind of risks now. We'll make it, and we'll make a difference. I love you, man.”

“I love you, too,” Scott hugged him back tightly, “I can't lose you again.”

Stiles let out a shaky breath. His dad, Scott, and Derek kept saying those words to him and they were feeling prophetic in a very scary way.

“Everyone keeps saying they can't lose me again like I've been _lost_, but I haven't! And frankly, it's starting to sound like foreshadowing. Can we not plan my funeral while I'm still alive? It's weird. We got this,” Stiles leaned back, “Now, did anyone recover my phone? Derek managed to send me an e-mail before fake-me was shot and I wanna stare at it on repeat for a bit.”

“Ew, should we, like, run beside the car?” Erica asked in disgust.

“It's not that kind of video,” Stiles laughed as he accepted the phone back, “It's of Talia.”

XXX

Derek was laying in the fetal position on the bathroom floor when the e-mail came through on Lydia's unhackable phone. She let out a broken sound and ran to him to hold it up.

“He's alive. He sent me this. Okay? He's alive, baby.”

Derek pushed himself into a seated position and took the phone, staring down at it to confirm what he saw. It was a video of Stiles, holding up a piece of paper with the date and time on it.

“Hey there, beloved. I'm so sorry that you're hurting right now. I took a lot of precautions and one of them was a doppleganger of sorts. I'm alive. I'm not even hurt. Just, like, _super _hungry and tired. This is the time in Washington DC. I... well, I don't really know where you are, so I hope this translates well and you don't have to do the math to be sure that it's real and current. I'm alive, Derek. I'm staying that way. Please be strong and take care of our little girl. I wish I... fuck, wasn't planning on crying before a press conference... I wish I was there. You're my whole world and I love you so, so much. I'm trying to settle this as quickly as possible so we can be together again. I love you.”

The video ended and Derek pushed himself to his feet.

“Derek?” Lydia asked cautiously. Her eyes were puffy from crying and in the distance Talia's wails were loud and outraged.

“How long has she been crying?” He asked softly.

“Just a few seconds,” Lydia stood up as well, “You wouldn't have ignored her, even despondent. Instincts and all.”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded weakly, “Instincts.”

“At least he can reach us via email,” She replied, “I've got it routed through dozens of servers, but-”

“Block it. Delete it. Whatever it's called. I won't take any risks to Talia's life. No more videos back and forth. These people are playing for keeps and the only people who get to keep Talia are Stiles and I.”

Lydia looked down at her phone and nodded, “I'll replace the sim card again.”

“Whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

Derek accepted his daughter from Braeden's frustrated arms, noting she had a dirty diaper, and set about changing her on the motel bed that they basically lived in. No blinds open. No fresh air for baby except for once a week when they moved to a different motel and he put the Uber's windows down. She had a playmat to do tummy time, Derek played classical music whenever she was awake, he and Lydia took turns reading to her after nursing her. They put her in the bathroom to sleep for her daytime naps because the adults were going _insane_ with Derek's no-TV-for-babies rule. Derek was horny and miserable and they were all of them depressed and sick of each other.

“We need to get out of this hell,” Derek told her, “Next move we don't go to another motel.”

“Where _do_ we go?” She asked, hand on one hip.

“Camping.”

“No. No way. Lydia Martin does not _camp,” _Lydia sneered.

“Would you like fresh air, freedom to walk, enough space to do yoga without smelling Liams feet, and a place to swim?”

“Hey!” Liam griped.

“You need medical intervention for those feet,” Braeden stated firmly.

“You really do,” Lydia insisted, then sighed heavily, “Okay. Camping.”

“Good,” Derek stated, “Find us a campground. Liam time to go shopping. No one knows Stiles is alive yet, so we have time to do this undetected. Let's go out now. Might even get to visit a bank for more funds while we're at it.”

XXX

Stiles got out of his limo not so much flanked by his packmates as wearing them like armor. Scott was basically hanging off of his back, one arm around his shoulders, holding up an umbrella to block the views of snipers. The rest of his crew were crowded against him from all sides. Stiles made his way through the crowd to a good vantage point and turned to face the reporters all staring at him in awe. They hadn't even started asking questions, they were just too stunned.

“Well,” Stiles shifted a bit, trying to get some arm space to one side only for Boyd to shove him back irritably, “Before any of you make comments about impropriety the guy all but hanging off my back is happily married and also my sand-box-playmate. There's no attraction. Like, literally. We did a run together and went in opposite directions. It's not a thing. Scott, seriously? Maybe an _inch _of breathing room?”

“Like, maybe a bullets-breadth?” Scott growled back at him, and Stiles was pretty sure the mic's caught that.

Stiles gave him a respectful nod, “Touche. Okay, so as you can see I'm _really _being protected now, so I won't be able to go to any more protests. That sucks, but I want you all to know that I am _so _relieved that no one else was hurt that day.”

“How did you _survive_?” A reporter finally piped up.

“That was a golem,” Stiles replied, “A more advanced one, which was why I was so exhausted all the time. So I'm feeling pretty good right now.”

“Will this effect your past votes since an impostor was holding your position?”

“No,” Stiles shook his head, “All votes were made by me personally, not a golem. I was questioning people _through _a golem during inquests, but those questions still came from me. It would be no different than an aid speaking for me if I happened to have a sore throat.”

“How would you get a sore throat? You're a _werewolf._” A conservative reporter snarked at him.

“Ask my husband that one,” Stiles winked at him, drawing a few laughs from the crowd.

“I don't talk to _omegas_,” The man snapped back, “I like intelligent conversation.”

“Wow, that's super sexist. Thanks for giving people something to talk about besides me. Good luck on your new job.”

“I don't have a new-”

“You will soon.”

“What are your plans moving forward?” His favorite station asked eagerly.

“Same as before. We're taking the main line to the depot and making sure no loads get dropped.”

Stiles turned sharply and headed for the his office and a few hours of sleep before he had to appear in yet another courtroom.

XXX

“I think it's completely inappropriate. I'm asking for Stilinski's immediate resignation,” Deucalion stated firmly, “Obviously I'm glad he's alive and well, but he has been dishonest with the taxpayers and that can not be allowed. I for one believe in honesty and justice, and justice has not been served today.”


	14. Chapter 14

“As you all know,” Stiles looked out at a sea of new faces, “We are gathered today to pass the articles of impeachment. We've all seen the first outline of evidence against the accused: President Deucalion, Vice President Blake, multiple aids and the top three leaders of Werewolf Rights and Services. First, we will hear from some of our new members...”

It was ten solid hours in chambers that day. Ten _exhausting hours_, and then a week of deliberation, and then a vote, and then another week of organizing their shit. They decided on partially public hearings since they both needed the public to know what was going on but also didn't want to make it a spectacle. Many of the people who were newly elected were movie and television stars, and putting them on television for 12 hours a day was going to give fuel to their opponents. It was going to look like public manipulation. At the end of each day, they would release clips of the trials containing pertinent parts. If people demanded more they could release it in full with that request.

The House was still majority Democrats, but due to a fresh vote bringing new people in Stiles had been up for a vote to determine the new Speaker. During a closed-door vote, they had chosen Stiles by a wide majority. Stiles suspected it was because no one wanted a target on their back.

Other than trial after trial, Stiles' life was _boring. _Derek hadn't replied to his video telling him that Stiles was alive, and he wasn't responding to any further emails. Lydia's phone was disconnected as far as he could tell, but he wouldn't be shocked if she'd just managed to finagle it in some way. It was wearing on him. His instincts were furious because he didn't know where his omega was. His heart was heavy because his mate and child weren't with him. His soul was aching for his best friend and partner in everything. And no amount of research and precedent had prepared him for _anything_ like the hell he had found himself in. He felt trapped in his office and when the full moon rolled around it took him everything not to just _howl._

He just wanted it to be over with.

Months of trials later, it was.

Abruptly.

With a slam of a gavel, he sent all his major problems over to the Senate for a vote and went back to his office to collapse in his chair and stare around the musty indoor campsite of his packmates in awe.

“Now what?” Scott asked, “Is this it? Is it... is it safe now?”

“Now there's a backlog of bills and meetings and...,” Stiles replied, feeling numb and confused and scared all at once, “And as for safety? I don't know.”

“We'll check our sources,” Spencer told him, pressing a hand to Stiles' shoulder before heading out of the office at a fast pace.

“Oh my god, someone just left alone,” Stiles whispered.

“Hotch is right outside,” Jackson sneered, “Don't your ears work?”

“I'm so tired,” Stiles rubbed at his face, “I swear the longer I'm away from Derek the harder it is to sleep. I have more of my pack here than I'm _ever _around at once, I shouldn't be struggling to sleep. I should be passing right out. Feeling safe.”

“So why aren't you?” Scott worried.

“_He _isn't here. Gods, he's my world. I just want to _smell_ him.”

“We could bring something from the RV?”

“I already have his pillow in a bag,” Stiles shook his head, “It's not just his scent I need, I need to smell _him. _I need to hold my daughter. I just... I don't know how much longer I can do this.”

To Stiles' surprise, it was Jackson who stood up and walked over to him to sit on the edge of his desk. Stiles didn't raise his eyes. He knew his whole pack wanted to go home, wanted their jobs and their mates and their kids back, wanted him to just _stop. _Who better to dash him on the rocks than Jackson Whitmore?

“Listen carefully, because you're never going to hear me say anything positive to you _ever _again. Don't give up.”

Stiles' eyes shot up in shock, “What?”

“My parents? My _biological _parents? They were both omegas. A male and a female. Every once in awhile a male omega has sperm. It's some freak thing. Technically he's intersex, but whatever. Fuck PC culture. The point is, they fell in love, snuck away together, shared a heat, and had me. Then their parents found them and put me up for adoption because omega/omega couples _don't count._ Their love and my birth were literally illegal. They were never allowed to see each other again and I got a lifetime of therapy. It fucked me up, and from what I know of their deaths it fucked them up, too. I never thought you'd get here because frankly, you're an annoying waste of air, but you did. So don't quit. Everyone in this room knows an omega who might not have a future. We're depending on you.”

“It's with the Senate now,” Stiles gestured vaguely.

“When is _anything _ever not your business?”

“Don't give up,” Scott pleaded softly from his spot on the cushions on the floor.

“Don't give up,” Erica groaned, “Because I'll fucking stab your eyes out if we did all this for nothing.”

Small ascents and agreements went through the room and Stiles felt both uplifted and absolutely exhausted. He put his head down on the desk and tried not to cry, but then he took a deep breath and made like Elsa. Let it go. Let go of his own longing, because it really wasn't about him anymore and he was definitely the self-sacrificing type if he was willing to drain his lifeforce just to guard his dad.

“Okay,” Stiles slammed his hands down on either side of his head on the desk, pushed upright, and looked around for Heather. She was passed out on his couch, sleeping through the whole thing, “Someone wake up my poor, defenseless secretary. I need to contact Antifa.”

The Werewolf's March had been the largest protest that DC had ever seen, and there had been echoes across the county and even in some larger cities around the world. People had donned wolf ears to support the werewolves being shoved into cages thanks to Vice President Blake's influence on Deucalion. Stiles didn't really expect them to manage that level of enthusiasm again, especially not with a month to plan. So he improvised.

Aptly named the _Speak to the Senate Saga_, the world flooded Youtube, Tik Tok, and Twitch. They were shared across Facebook, Instagram, MeWe, and emailed to Senators en masse. It made all the major news channels. It crashed servers. Some faces were covered and some were not. Some had flags painted on their faces. Some were wolfed out. The messages followed a basic script: brief and to the point.

“Senator ____ of ____ district. I am your constituent. Vote to remove the false President or I will vote to remove you in 20__. This vote _is_ my business, and I'm not giving up.”

XXX

“How is this not witness tampering?” Deucalion raged on the White House lawn, spittle flying from his lips, “Tell me how it's possible that they can _order_ government officials around and it's called _protest_? That's not a protest! That is a _threat!”_

XXX

The supreme court nomination went through and Deucalion's followers started talking about ways to bring up a vote against beta abortions. It would have to go from state to federal to get to them, but it would happen eventually and they had decades to set the stage to remove the rights of 1/3 of Americans. Technically 2/3, since omegas already didn't have that 'right'.

Deucalion might be convicted, but he'd already won a crucial battle that could potentially affect the country for centuries.

XXX

Derek unzipped the tent, stepped out onto a nest of pine needles and stretched. Behind him clamored out a small and awkward bundle of limbs. Derek laughed as he turned and scooped up his daughter. She wasn't walking just yet, but it was going to happen soon. They'd thrived in the woods, despite Lydia's complaints. They had a solar-powered camp shower to lessen them, but even so, she spent a lot of time at a nearby gym that had real facilities, including a hot tub. Talia was on baby foods now, so Derek wasn't fussed about losing her milk for Talia. What he made was enough to supplement her diet until she was a year old.

Derek took his little girl and carried her over to the picnic table. It was getting chilly out as fall approached and he was considering risking buying an RV so they didn't have to return to a motel. His guards loved the freedom of the wooded campsite. RV's would be crammed closer together at the front of the campsite. Less privacy. Less space.

Derek had been following the news using a disposable phone that he had bought at a gas station, showing Talia her daddy in older Youtube clips since Stiles wasn't in the news as much anymore. It really wasn't the norm to see Congressmen plastered all over the news on a daily basis, especially not the same one. Stiles was just lucky like that.

The vote in the Senate was due to come out that day and Stiles had already announced that if the Senate didn't remove the President they would work with him instead of trying again. It was their only choice, after all. Deucalion was promising to be civil, but really it was anyone's guess with him.

Derek heard footsteps approaching their campsite, but he ignored them in favor of getting Talia to eat something besides her favorite set of plastic keys.

“You're gonna drive a shiny big rig someday, aren't you?” Derek teased, “Yes you are.”

The footsteps were getting closer, and now a scent came with it that took Derek's breath away. He stood up slowly, leaving Talia kicking happily in the baby seat that was secured to the picnic table. She cooed after him when he started to walk towards the bush that gave them a bit of privacy from the main road but didn't go far. He wouldn't leave Talia for safety reasons, and because it just might be a trick.

“Oh my gods and goddesses,” Derek breathed as Stiles came into view.

He was wearing a red hoody, tattered converses, and a pair of ripped jeans. Gone was the exhaustion from his eyes as he smiled up at Derek and burst into a run. Derek put out his arms and Stiles leaped into them, wrapping his arms and legs around Derek while they both laughed and cried in relief. Their lips met in quick, happy kisses before Derek lowered him enough to walk him towards the table and his daughter.

“Oh my _baby!”_ Stiles sobbed, hopping down to kneel beside her and breathe in her scent.

Talia started crying at the sudden loud intrusion, but as Stiles nuzzled and scented her she recognized the pack behavior and grabbed his hair and rubbed her face against him eagerly. When she blew a raspberry instead of kissed Stiles nearly choked on his teary laughter.

“How did you find us?” Derek choked out, “Do we need to run again?”

“No,” Stiles sniffled as he stood up with Talia secure in his arms, “No more running. Deucalion was arrested this morning. They're not announcing it immediately because of people threatening to storm the White House. We'll leave here when we're sure it's safe to move out.”

“Okay,” Derek frowned, “But seriously, how did you find us? If you can, someone else might be able to.”

Stiles shook his head and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips with Talia ensconced between them, “They can't find you the way I did, Sourwolf. No one can sense you across the country like I can.”

XXX

Not everyone got convicted. Most of the staff got off, and a few of them had less than healthy goals for the country. Most of them Stiles knew he could combat, but one of them was his living nightmare.

Jennifer Blake, Vice President, was about to become the _actual _President, and she was the source of the anti-werewolf movement that swore it would remove all werewolves from the country if they had to arm the hunters with WMD's to do it.

Stiles stood before Congress and stated that he would work with her for the sake of Democracy... as soon as he'd gotten his mate and child from hiding. Jennifer Blake wasn't stupid. She demanded proof that he'd destroyed his golems, which he easily provided with a quick reading from a druid of her choosing. Then he got on a plane and flew down south to follow his pack link to his mate.

While Stiles, Boyd, and Erica flew south and the rest of his packmates headed to their homes, a truck drove into Virginia and its occupant stepped out and began to walk towards Washington D.C. He walked back out two days later with Jennifer Blake's blood on his claws, but as was the norm for Peter Hale there were no witnesses to point the blame.


	15. Chapter 15

The flight was spent with Stiles unable to let Talia go. He held her gently in his arms and pressed kisses to her face, scented her, changed her when needed, amused her when he could, and cooed over her as she cried over her popping ears. Derek sat beside them, smiling lovingly at his mate as he tried to cram in the last five months of his life with Talia into a few hours.

She wore herself out being miserable during the landing, so by the time they climbed out of the plane and made it through the terminal she passed right out in his arms. Stiles only had eyes for Talia, so Derek guided his steps through the crowd with their Braeden, Liam, Erica, Boyd, and Lydia flanking them.

The reporters were just outside the door and Stiles groaned when he bothered to glance up and see them there.

“Oh, come on, folks. It's _over_ now. Can't I enjoy my family for the first time in nearly half a year?”

“Just a few questions about Jennifer Blake,” One thrust the mic at him.

Stiles put a protective hand over his baby and growled at her, “Back. Off.”

They took a collective step back while Derek scooped Talia out of her hands, “She's safe with me, alpha. Go ahead. Be amazing.”

“Right,” Stiles straightened up a bit, jokingly adjusting the strings on his sweater like a tie, “Jennifer Blake. Well, like I said in my _previous statement- _ya'll remember that one- I _will_ be working with her from here on out. The courts have spoken, and even though she's _totally guilty, _she's innocent.”

There were a few awkward glances and then one of them cleared their throat, “We were looking for your statement about her _death, _Mr... President._”_

“Her what now?” Stiles asked flatly, “What did you call me? Why the heck... what kind of reporters are you that you wouldn't _open with that?_”

“She was... allegedly murdered last night,” one finally explained in the face of his confusion.

“Allegedly. Wow. Okay,” Stiles blinked rapidly and let out a slow breath as if recovering from a shock, “Has her family been alerted? I don't make statements until family have been contacted first.”

“Yes, her body was found this morning and they were notified before we were,” The one he knew as John stated.

“Well, you all have more information than I do,” He stated blandly with a shrug, “I was on a plane and had my phone off while I was re-bonding with my family. My deepest condolences to her family in their time of loss.”

“Were you involved in her death?” The conservative reporter practically shouted, shoving his mic in Stiles' face aggressively.

Stiles gestured at the plane behind him incredulously but verbally answered, “I'm gonna have to do the politician thing and tell you to talk to my lawyers, but I'm sure you all have timelines already worked out so just do your due diligence. We rely on the media as a part of our checks and balances to keep the people informed.”

“That wasn't a 'no',” Someone shouted.

“Lydia Martin, what is President Stilinski's official statement!”

“That's Hale!” Stiles shouted over his shoulder as he hurried to their waiting limo.

“I think we can wait till he's sworn in to use that, don't you? After all, he might not accept given the current state of politics and the way the _last _president succeeded that title.”

_Good job, Lydia_, Stiles thought, _Give them some new fodder to chew. _

Stiles hurried down the walk with Derek, Talia, and the entourage surrounding him. He ignored any further questions and then got into the car and waited until it was moving too fast to be listened into easily.

“Talk to me, what happened?” Stiles asked of Lydia as she tapped away at her phone.

“Congratulations,” Lydia stated in a bored tone.

“Congratulations my ass, Lydia!” Stiles snapped, “What's the temperature out there? Do I need to step down to preserve my reputation? Or do I take the bull by the horns? Shit. I can't decline. There's no one safe to step up. Shit, shit, _shit! _Talk to me, Lydia!_”_

“Give me 24 hours to gauge the people's attitude and I can tell you more than what you already know. Stay silent that long and the answer will be _bad.”_

“So I'm the president. Okay,” Stiles let out a slow breath.

Derek glanced between them both, not sure if he should ask if Stiles _had _been involved or not. He looked down at their daughter and decided he didn't care.

“What's my attitude here?” Stiles asked, “Happy? Resigned? Mourning?”

“I think we can't pull of mourning with you,” She stated, as she smiled at Derek when he adjusted Talia to begin nursing, “You vocally contested her rise to power. I think honesty is our best policy here. Somber when you talk about Blake, but happy when you talk about the presidency. Try not to make it look like bipolar. Your mental health has already been questioned thanks to your mom.”

Stiles sighed, “I honestly doubt I'd have gotten to presidency any other way at this point thanks to mom's mental health and my transition. Honestly, the attitude towards mental health in this country is intense. Maybe we could make that a platform for my next- or rather first- election?”

“Thinking that far ahead? You still need to get sworn in,” Lydia pointed out.

“I still need to _accept_,” Stiles groaned.

“Will you?” Derek asked softly, thinking of all the security that would entail. Would he ever see his mate again?

“Yes,” Stiles stated firmly, “I don't have a choice. The person next in line is one of Deucalion's people. I need to maintain this presidency for at least two years so those people can be- hopefully- voted out. This wasn't how I wanted to become president.”

“That's what you need to let the people see,” Lydia stated, “Let them know this wasn't what you _wanted, _but it is what's best for them.”

“That sounds patronizing,” Stiles frowned.

“Still,” Lydia shrugged delicately, still studying her phone carefully.

“Stiles,” Derek spoke softly, “Are we _ever _going to see each other again?”

“What? Yes! Oh my gosh, honey, you're _never _going into hiding again. If it comes to that I'm going with you. Listen. The White House means safety for us. It means a _real _detail keeping us safe, lots of detail. It means we'll be out of harm's way.”

“Which explains why we'll need a real detail,” Derek stated dryly.

Stiles rubbed at his face in frustration, “This is why I didn't want kids.”

Derek went still and Stiles backpedaled fast, “I know. I know. We've hashed that out. I love you and Talia, and I regret nothing, okay? I just... I hate putting her in this, but she's also my motivation for fighting so hard. I want her to have a better future than I did when I was identified as an omega.”

“Me too,” Derek stated softly, “I'm with you, Stiles. I just don't want to be without you again.”

“You won't,” Stiles stated, “First thing's first. I need you. Like... it's a _physical ache. _I can't even focus on anything else until then. We're heading back to C-”

Stiles paused mid-sentence and turned a caustic look at Lydia, “You dropped that phone _really fast _just now.”

“Candid clips will show the people what you really think,” Lydia stated, “Leaking to the media is a valid-”

“You were _filming us?” _Derek growled angrily.

“Get over it,” Lydia advised casually.

“Ugh, oh my god,” Stiles groaned, “How are you even going to sell that? No one is going to believe you breached lawyer confidentiality laws.”

“I'm not,” Lydia handed the phone to Erica, “She is. For a lot of money.”

“I'm getting a new car,” She smirked, tapping on her phone.

“I hate you all,” Stiles stated with a broad grin, “Please edit that first?”

“No,” Erica stated, “Honesty is worth more.”

“Wait,” Stiles' eyes darted to Derek, “Did you get a clip of him _nursing?”_

“It makes it more real, Stiles,” Lydia sighed.

Derek watched Stiles' eyes bleed red, his claws burst out, and his teeth extend. He was on edge, breathing harshly, and Derek saw the wisdom in Lydia's approach which was why he moved to calm him. No alpha would just _let that_ be sent to the media; not with such a sensual view of his omega mate.

Personally Derek was more afraid of the conversation mentioning Stiles not wanting kids getting out. They had neither of them wanted kids, but when they'd been in the vulnerable state after switching genders, with hormones running rampant and instincts out of control, Derek had skipped his birth control without discussing it with Stiles. It had been glossed over smoothly at the time, neither of them willing to risk their relationship after nearly losing the other. However, it had _technically_ been rape. Derek knew it. Stiles knew it. And eventually it had come up in therapy while Derek was swollen with Stiles' cubs. Stiles had confessed to feeling betrayed and as if Derek were trying to tie him down and disrupt his career. He'd felt like he had to quit. He hadn't felt raped, because he knew that they were _neither _of them really in their right mind with the hormonal swings and recent trauma, but he admitted to feeling some resentment. He still wanted the baby. Talk of adoption- even to Cora and Isaac- had been _soundly _stomped.

He had also been elated, and his admission that he was loving the sight of Derek pregnant, had wanted it instinctively as well, and was even considering _more_ kids now that one was already a thing had probably saved their relationship. Stiles' main fears were mental illness and danger due to his job. So far the latter had become a very real possibility and he could see Stiles returning to old fears and worried about what they would mean for them.

“Alpha,” Derek purred, sliding up to him even as he practically shoved Talia into Lydia's arms. Stiles wouldn't attack her while she was holding his cub, “Talia's nursing less and less. I still have some milk left over if you'd like to-”

“You're _intentionally_ distracting me from murdering her right now.”

“Yes.”

“I'd have _every right. _It wouldn't even legally be murder.”

“She's your mother-in-law, lawyer, and friend,” Derek chided as he sat up a bit and bowed his back to show off his lactating nipples, “You don't want to kill her. You're upset because people will see _this_ and get excited, but wouldn't you rather just _enjoy me?”_

Lydia slipped a hand over Talia's eyes, eyes wide as Stiles' practically salivated.

“Put on your shirt,” Stiles ordered, “We're home.”

Derek obeyed, because obeying Stiles would calm him down a bit. There weren't reporters here. Cora and Isaac had managed to stay off the radar, probably by being fucking hermits and living in the middle of no-where California, and their association with them was barely known. Stiles intentionally never mentioned his sister-in-law or niece, and there were laws protecting the privacy of citizens if the media did find them. Stiles' life at the RV park had been more public to draw attention _away _from Cora and their real home.

Now they marched up to the drive with guards everywhere and the knowledge that the sleepy area was secluded enough that no one would see them enter. The nearest neighbor was a half mile away, and there were tall trees and bushes hiding the property's walkway, driveway, front and back yard. You could murder someone in this house and hide the body on the property and no one would ever find out. In fact, Derek largely suspected that someone had.

They marched up the walkway with Stiles gripping Derek's arm as if he were his prisoner. It sent a fission of desire through his body. He would gladly be this man's anything so long as he had him to come home to. Stiles growled at Lydia as they entered their home, but let her keep Talia in her arms, which garnered him a smug smile after he turned away.

Derek was released so he could hug his sister, rubbing their jaws together as they scented lovingly. Stiles was coming back to himself a bit more, which only confirmed more to Derek that Stiles was always meant to be an alpha. He was able to control himself despite the urges he had being less than two years old. Derek had been struggling with control for over a decade before he'd been returned to omega status.

Derek briefly greeted his niece who was walking already. He was somewhat stunned that she didn't have that same look about her that all the living Hales wore. It took him all the way up the steps to realize why.

“She's never been traumatized,” Derek stated.

“Talia?” Stiles asked, nostrils flaring.

“Emily. My niece. She's a Hale, but she almost doesn't _look_ like a Hale, because I'm so used to the Hales looking haunted or angry or just... _damaged.”_

“Then you better get used to Talia not looking like a Hale,” Stiles told him, running his hands over his arms, “Because no one is going to traumatize my little girl.”

Derek smiled softly, “I'm okay with that.”

  
“What are our options today?” Stiles asked, stroking his fingers through Derek's hair, “Are you on birth control? Near your heat? Gods, I have no idea when your cycle is, I'm so thrown off. I feel like this is a first date that I knew would end up with sex, but I'm not, like, prepared.”

“We don't have to,” Derek soothed.

“I _really_ want to, I'm just weirdly anxious. I haven't seen you in months and I just... I feel like I've missed _talking_ to you. I want to know where your head is at. So much has happened.”

Derek chuckled lightly, “My talkative alpha. I have an idea. How about we start off slow. We suck each other off to take the edge off, because _there is an edge_, and then we lie here and talk and just... reconnect. If sex happens after that then it does. If we need to talk more than fuck, then that happens.”

“I love you so, so much,” Stiles pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes a moment, overwhelmed with emotions.

“I love _you_,” Derek insisted, “Come here, my alpha. Hold your omega.”

They stripped each other, hands moving slow over bodies that hadn't seen each other in so long it felt a lifetime. They savored each other's presence as they laid down side by side in the bed. Stiles moved down his body and breathed in the scent of his milk, but rather than go for a drink he dropped lower and shifted himself to nuzzle beneath Derek's balls. Derek smiled down at him as Stiles breathed in his scent where it was strongest, where he could smell his slick and sweat and the most private parts of his body.

“Oh, gods, Der,” Stiles' voice cracked a bit as he climbed back up and pulled him in for a long kiss. Their tongues slid together, slick and full of missed tastes and time. Derek could smell tears and Stiles pulled away to sniffle, “I'm such a sap.”

“No,” Derek shook his head, stroking his jaw lovingly. It was so strange to have Stiles with stubble after a decade with a soft jaw, but it was no less sexy on him. He looked a bit wild this way, his slender, sexy alpha.

Derek could drown in those whiskey eyes with their long lashes. Those two moles just below his left eye were Derek's favorite spot to kiss him. His nose was as sharp as his wit, and those lips...

Derek dove in for another kiss, a bit more heated than the last, and this time it was his turn to travel down Stiles' body. His mate had grown a bit more body hair since their last joining. Derek hadn't lost any of his, but he still had more than Stiles did. His slender mate just didn't seem to be the sort to go bear on him. Derek wasn't complaining. He loved Stiles in any way, shape, or form. He wanted to sink his teeth in, so as he moved down Stiles' body he sucked a mark into his neck that bloomed purple before quickly going green and then healing completely. Stiles let out a broken sound at the bite, his already hard cock twitching and smearing a line of precome along Derek's thigh.

Derek chuckled as Stiles panted with need and slid down his body further to open wide and drag sharp fangs along the ridge of his chest. Stiles sobbed and whimpered. Derek could feel them amping up more, remember each other's bodies and the desire that had lived between them before Derek had been too worn out with a baby for more than a quick wank with his mate.

Derek made it to his huge member and had to lean back and take a breath. It never ceased to amaze him how much _this _part had changed. Stiles was the same height, had gained a bit of muscle mass, and some extra hair on his body, but _here. _Here was the difference between alpha and beta or omega. Not all alphas were huge, and Stiles ran more towards long than thick, but the balls beneath were large and heavy with the copious amounts of semen he'd produce. Alphas wore special underwear to cope with these larger organs and Derek loved Stiles' balls. It seemed like a strange area to enjoy, but the texture of the soft skin, the wiry hair around it, the fullness of the fragile organs that Stiles loved to have squeezed _just a bit_ during a blowjob... it did things to Derek.

“Derek,” Stiles wheezed, “I can't... I need...”

“I've got you, my alpha,” Derek soothed.

Derek gave Stiles' thighs each a bite firm enough to make Stiles cry out softly, teasing him further, before abandoning them to lick and suck at his full balls. Stiles was panting above him, desperate and needy just like Derek preferred him. That at least hadn't changed between them. Derek still loved it when Stiles was slack jawed with lust, his eyes glazed over, and he became unable to complete sentences. Sex-stupid Stiles was his favorite Stiles.

Derek worked up the underside of Stiles' cock, sucking his way to the more sensitive parts while Stiles swore and clawed the bed above him. He looked up at his mate to see Stiles staring down at him with red eyes, fangs out, and lips glistening. He looked like he was about to come, but without Derek squeezing his knot he was helpless before the omega.

Derek swallowed him down, moaning at the flavor of his beloved after so long. He slurped him down, knowing the sloppy sounds made Stiles keen, and gave his balls the gentle but firm squeeze that had him getting louder and more enthusiastic. Derek had to grip Stiles' hips to stop him from choking him, but he'd need that hand to squeeze his knot later.

Stiles got a fistful of hair and started controlling Derek's head, which made Derek wet with desire. He couldn't take much more after such a long separation. Derek went for gold, moving his hand up to grip Stiles' knot instead of teasing his balls.

“Oh, fuck, Derek!” Stiles' voice was wrecked as he pressed Derek's head down hard.

Derek could deep-throat like a pro, having been one for a time, so he took Stiles' intense enthusiasm in stride and swallowed as much seed as he could. What he couldn't consume he let drip down into Stiles' lap, coating his lips and chin. When Derek looked up again, eyes watering a bit, Stiles groaned at the sight of his sticky face.

“You're a _god_,” Stiles moaned, “My Adonis. My Thor. My only love.”

“Your omega mate,” Derek purred as he climbed up Stiles' body and straddled his shoulders.

“Oh wow,” Stiles panted as Derek turned around, “Way to take the edge off and then put it back on!”

Stiles loved to eat Derek out, and the omega loved to be on the receiving end of his hungry mouth. Derek leaned back onto Stiles' face, letting the alpha position him where he needed him. Derek hummed in anticipation as Stiles began a gentle lick to sample his slick. Derek's body was aching for his alpha, his entrance ready to receive every inch of him. His tongue thrusting into him and his lips suckling hungrily was almost a tease if it hadn't been so long. Derek was sensitive, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he rolled his hips and moaned for his mate. He'd had his hand for so long that he couldn't stand it any longer.

“Touch me,” Derek pleaded, “Stiles, I need more than your tongue.”

Stiles reached around him with one hand and fumbled for Derek's throbbing shaft. He wrapped his hand around his dick and began a slow drag that tugged his foreskin _just right. _Derek threw his head back and moaned long and low. He let himself drift in sensation, sparks arching up his spine. Stiles moved the hand cupping Derek's ass closer until he could slide his thumb in alongside his tongue. He pushed in, pulling at Derek's rim and making him gasp and jump. Stiles moaned softly and worked it deeper into his body. Derek wasn't sure he could reach his prostate with his thumb, but the glide inside his body still felt fantastic.

Derek's body clenched tight, abdomen working as he came closer to release. He needed it like he needed air, which he was gasping in short huffs as Stiles worked him over. The feel of stubble on his perineum and Stiles' hot breath on his cleft was sweet torture. When he finally came it was toe-curling, mind-numbing, blackout-satisfying and Stiles had to release his cock to grab his hips and stop him from falling over. Derek was already coming and the stimulation on his pucker didn't stop. When he came back to himself he'd shifted back and Stiles had to hold his breath to keep Derek's climax going while he tongue-fucked his dripping wet hole. Derek shifted forward so Stiles could suck in a breath and the alpha panted a moment, dismounted, and lay slack in the bed in bliss.

Derek turned around and snuggled up to his mate, throwing a leg over his thighs and nuzzling into his neck. Stiles was grinning, his face wet with saliva and Derek's natural lubricant. He looked like he'd entered heaven. Derek did that to men... well, one man now. He was a damn good lay and he knew it, and despite being Stiles' only bedmate the omega-turned-alpha had never wanted to stray.

Derek listened to Stiles' rabbit fast heartbeat for a while, but the silence couldn't last. Stiles wanted to bond with him, and not in the mating way. He wanted to reconnect with Derek, and there was something about his need to just _talk _to Derek that reaffirmed his love for him in all new ways. Derek blinked back tears as Stiles began to talk about how much he'd missed him, stress during the disaster they'd faced, his frustration over the democratic processes inefficiencies, and the way that he was constantly demanded to perform for people who most often had no interest in learning basic political practices.

“Half the time they have no idea what bill is where, they'll just call the office and demand I vote on something that's in the Senate.”

“Well, you'll be handling different things now,” Derek murmured, “How are you feeling about that?”

“Horrified. Excited. Both.”

“Did... did you know? Was it Peter?”

“Shh,” Stiles soothed him gently, turning to pull Derek closer, “None of that. Talk to me, Sourwolf. Tell me what I missed? You at least had T.V. updates. I had nothing. Nothing but our alpha/omega and mating links, that is.”

Derek wasn't the talkative type, and had sometimes confessed that he felt stopped up. Like he couldn't just blurt things out as needed, even simple things like a 'hello' or a yes or no. Stiles knew this and if Derek didn't regal him with tales of fleeing across the country with a baby than Stiles wouldn't be upset. He didn't even seem to be expecting much, just avoiding the conversation Derek wanted to have. He sighed happily and lay there running his fingers over Derek's cooling flesh and through his hair.

“I ran low on milk,” Derek spoke softly.

“Oh,” Stiles sounded concerned, hand stilling.

“It was okay,” Derek assured him, “Talia never went hungry. Lydia made sure to feed her, and now she's mostly on solids anyway. I'm pretty sure she's a werewolf based on her demand for foods so young. I mean, six months we should be _starting_ food, but she's turned her head away from the nipple to demand rice. She still wants to nurse every day, but it's more a going to bed thing. Pack bonding. Comfort. Plus, my milk is yummy. She's not as into Lydia's anymore.”

“Aww, so none for me, huh?” Stiles sounded legitimately sorry.

Derek laughed lightly, “I keep pumping even when she refuses or Lydia nurses, like now. So I'm keeping my supply up. I know omega milk is a fetish for you.”

“Is that... okay? Is it weird?”

“It's not something I totally understand,” Derek shrugged lightly, “But I don't think it's weird or gross. It's a pretty logical craving, to be honest. I mean, you want the rest of my fluids. Why not that one? The evidence of my fertility? Of your seed taking root?”

Stiles moaned softly, shuddering in Derek's arms. His erection was still angry between them, the knot keeping him hard and ready for Derek still.

“You asked about birth control,” Derek started gently, and Stiles stiffened in a different way. He didn't want to fight, “I'm taking it. I don't want another kid. Not yet. Not sure I want another period. Part of me wants a dozen, but part of me is overwhelmed with just one.”

“Why don't we see what it's like to raise her _together_ before we make that call?” Stiles soothed.

“My thoughts exactly. And... I'm not lying this time.”

“I know,” Stiles soothed, “Der, we've been over this. I could tell you were lying before. I understood your reasons. Neither of us was in our right minds, but look what we got out of it! Talia is perfect and I don't regret her.”

“Neither do I,” Derek replied softly, “God, I missed you. There were times I wasn't sure if you were still alive. Times I was just telling myself I could still feel the bond, it hadn't passed to Scott, it was _you_. It had to be.”

“I'm so sorry I put you through this,” Stiles' voice was thick with emotion.

“You didn't,” Derek replied, “Deucalion did, but now he's in jail and we're _safe.” _

“We are,” Stiles replied softly, “Mr. First Omega.”

“Oh no,” Derek groaned, “I wondered when that would start up.”

Stiles laughed lightly and put a finger under Derek's chin to lift it for a kiss. Derek tasted himself on Stiles' lips, musky and bitter, and moaned lightly at the feel of Stiles' long tongue teasing his mouth instead.

“I love you so much,” Stiles whispered against his lips, reluctant to end the kiss but always needing to speak.

“I love you,” Derek soothed, “I'm so proud of you, my brilliant mate. I keep thinking of that skinny omega kid hanging from his wrist from a tree, trying to kill yourself and being _so completely inept_, and reconciling that with the alpha you've become. You radiate power, do you know that?”

“Mm,” Stiles nuzzled Derek jaw as he worked his way to his neck, “I'm a bad ass motherfucker.”

“Yeah, don't say that,” Derek laughed lightly, “You may be a tough alpha now, but you don't have the street cred to say movie lines.”

“As you wish,” Stiles whispered, making Derek shiver.

“Except that one, my Westley.”

“My Evangeline,” Stiles moaned, licking his Adam's apple, “Oh gods, Derek, I want to keep talking but I need you like a physical ache.”

“As if you ever stop talking anyway,” Derek chortled.

“Can I... now? I don't want to take milk from Talia, but...” Stiles' hand moved to Derek's nipple where they could both smell milk occasionally escaping. Derek never seamed to stop leaking, and Stiles was salivating for him.

“I'll never get tired of you lusting after me,” Derek purred, “And yes. Talia's fed and you nursing can keep me from drying out. It's no sacrifice to share with you, dearest.”

Stiles practically whimpered as he moved down Derek's body, their legs tangling as he lapped gently at one nipple. Now he _did _whine in the back of his throat. Derek knew the sweet explosion that had just hit Stiles' tongue because of course he'd sampled his own milk when re-heating it for Talia. What he didn't know was how Stiles would react to it. Stiles had expressed discomfort watching Derek nurse on Lydia because to him it was a _sexual _act between two consenting adults while to Derek it was just a comforting thing he did to relax and bond with his 'Mommy'. He had never forbade it and never would, because he knew that to Derek it wasn't sexual and was therefore not an act of infidelity.

For Stiles, however, this was the epitome of celebrating his mate's body. Proof that Derek was his omega, carrier of his child, and still his sexual partner. It was something Stiles had tried to explain more than once but Derek didn't fully understand it despite having been an alpha at one point. It was Stiles' fetish and he was hard up for it. Literally.

Stiles' moans were making Derek wet again, despite having been sated so recently, and he knew that Stiles wasn't even close to satisfied. He also knew he'd researched nursing, because he didn't make the rookie mistake of just putting his lips around the nipple. The whole areola went into Stiles' mouth and he sucked hard until Derek's milk dropped. When the flow increased Stiles' jaw relaxed and he began a slow swallow, body molded to Derek's as he held him in his arms with each hand cupping a butt cheek and a look of bliss on his eyes. He opened them briefly, but instead of relaxed like Derek got he was inflamed.

Stiles' eyes were burning red behind a deeper chocolate brown, coals behind the windows of his soul. Derek's breath caught and he gripped Stiles' hair, pressing him firmly to his pec. Stiles' breath came hard and his hips rolled, long erection rubbing against Derek's thigh.

“Look at you, my beautiful alpha,” Derek growled, letting his voice go deep. So many alphas were offended by Derek's deeper voice that was reminiscent of his years as an alpha, but not Stiles. He accepted Derek as he was, loved him no matter who or what he was, and was absolutely guzzling his milk in ardent desire.

Derek's other nipple was leaking, drips rolling down onto Stiles' cheek. When his mate broke the first latch he pushed up onto his knees rather than start on the second teet and rubbed Derek's escaped milk across his jaw and down his neck while making porn-star sounds.

“Derek, fucking hell, you smell like a _dessert!” _Stiles sounded broken, his eyes burning red as he looked down at where Derek had rolled onto his back.

Stiles pounced, pushing Derek's thighs apart with sharp movements and settling between them to latch onto his other nipple. Derek pressed against the back of his head and smothered him in his strong chest the way he had in more intimate areas earlier.

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles,” Derek chanted, his body aching as he felt his channels inside switch to prepare for Stiles' cock, “Oh gods, love, I need you inside me.”

Stiles let out a broken cry and climbed his body, leaving the milk to drip down Derek's body as he hefted his thick thighs.

  
“Fuck yeah, THICC,” Stiles growled out, eyes flashing and claws gently scraping his flesh.

“Take me, Captain, take me hard,” Derek teased.

“Don't you _dare_ quote Firefly to me when I'm on edge, you _Companion,” _Stiles spat at him, his cock twitching as he rubbed the tip against Derek's wet entrance, “Do you need to be stretched?”

“Yeah, probably best,” Derek nodded, “It's been so long. I haven't even used toys without you.”

“Fucking hell, you need to stop,” Stiles whined, “I'm going to shoot off before I get inside of you!”

“Not possible,” Derek reminded him, then groaned as Stiles glared at his clawwed hands, “Do you need me to?”

“No. I'm doing this,” Stiles willed his claws away, “I need to finger you. I need to finger you, like, _right now.”_

Derek breathed out as Stiles' dry finger slid into his wet entrance, knowing that Derek liked the burn that came with a good rough fingering before a hard fuck. Stiles worked him open quickly, but didn't hesitate to enjoy it either. Derek loved Stiles' long fingers. He had elaborate fantasies about them, and Stiles knew it. The feel of them slowly sliding out, the plunge of return, the way Stiles' long digits could reach just the right spot and drive him to eye-fluttering distraction.

“You're so perfect, Der,” Stiles moaned, “I'm going to fill you up so good!”

“You're so...” Derek's voice cracked and he growled angrily, “_late_. Get inside me! Now!”

Stiles chuckled lightly, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before shifting to a better position. With Derek's thighs framing his hips Stiles looked like warmth and home. He smiled down at Derek with heat in his eyes and framed his head with both hands curled into fists on the bed.

“Guide me?” Stiles purred.

“Like always,” Derek smiled lovingly as he reached down and guided Stiles' length to his entrance.

Stiles' knot was already popped, so when he slid in it was only up to the bulbous gland that Derek craved. Stiles fucked him shallowly while Derek panted beneath him. He was reaching _just _to Derek's p-spot and every prod was punching the air out of Derek's lungs while making fireworks behind his eyelids.

“Stiles. Just. Fucking. Knot. Me. Already!”

“I'm savoring this,” Stiles panted.

“Obey your alpha!” Derek raged, grabbing at Stiles' ass and pulling hard.

“I'm the alpha now!” Stiles argued, pulling away and letting Derek pull him back to ram inside hard, “Oh, fuuuck!”

“Not in bed!” Derek growled, and flipped them over to dirty grind down on Stiles' cock, “I'm your sexy omega who rides you like a motorcycle.”

“Oh gods, we need to get you more leather,” Stiles wheezed.

Derek dropped down again, this time leaning back and letting gravity help. He felt that strain, the protest of tight flesh, and then Stiles' knot popped through the ring of muscles and filled Derek's aching passage with sweet relief.

“Oh, _Stiles_,” Derek's gravelly voice shook with relief, “Finally!”

“Love you,” Stiles breathed, back arching as Derek's body clenched his knot.

While Stiles was busy coming his brains out Derek was rolling his hips and grinding Stiles' knot against the best spots in his body. Only Stiles could reach him like this. Only Stiles could make him feel like depths of pleasure that a years of john's couldn't. Only his _mate_ could fulfill him, not just in body but in mind and soul as well. It wasn't just that he came his brains out with Stiles- he could do that on his own- there was something special about how Stiles' eyes met his. A kind of worship that Stiles gave him freely and with no strings attached. Just love and be loved.

Stiles' fingers wrapped around Derek's length, his eyes lidded with pleasure, but Derek pushed his hand away. He wanted to come untouched. It was a special kind of bliss to feel his cock erupt from something Stiles did _inside_ of him.

Stiles teased one nipple instead, and moved the other down to Derek's hips to stroke along the sensitive skin that made his flesh pebble. Derek's head tossed and he let out a broken cry, his eyes squeezing shut as his cock ached and twitched against his own belly. He could feel his climax building, could feel the way Stiles' length stroked his insides through the alpha's thick come. His knot was rubbing the gland inside of Derek's body that would lead to his bliss and Derek _needed _it!

“Stiles, you sexy fucking-”

Derek's cock pulsed, his slick overflowing his body and pulsing out of his aching member to spill across Stiles' belly and chest. Stiles crooned, back arching, and his eyes squeezed shut as he filled Derek to the bursting point. Derek could feel his come sliding out around the knot to drip down into Stiles' lap and over his heavy balls. Derek was draining him dry and Stiles was wrecking him in the best of ways.

Finally they were calming as they huffed in relief. They did that awkward knotted shuffle until they got into a comfortable position together and lay there, sweat cooling as their fingers entwined and they smiled into each other's eyes.

“My knot is seriously overstimulated. If you laugh I'll cry,” Stiles gave Derek a weak grin.

“We're not doing that again,” Derek snorted, “Just... sleep, Stiles. I know you've barely gotten any in weeks. Lydia will cover for us for a night.”

“Mm,” Stiles sighed and snuggled against Derek's chest, taking his second nipple in for a slow suckle of the rest of the milk.

Derek fell asleep with Stiles snuggled against his chest, warm and comfortable with the scent of his mate around him once more.

XXX

It was awful to leave their rebonding nest, but Stiles had responsibilities that could not be ignored. Lydia had made contact with the proper people while he'd been in bed with Derek and their new secret service detail met them not far from Cora and Isaac's home. Stiles had packed up a few things from the tiny RV that had been their home when in the area. With a small child they would buy a new home after Stiles' stint as president ended since they didn't want to encroach on Isaac and Cora. They were planning a second child and the house would quickly get too small for them all. Derek was also painfully aware of the danger of leading threats to Cora and his niece. Their house would be visited as rarely as possible.

They took Air Force One to Washington where the usual protocol to swear in a new president had been truncated. There was technically an investigation going on since Stiles had gotten it under shady circumstances, but everything was proceeding as planned since no proof had come forward. It was more of an assurance to avoid further stigma.

Stiles greeted Reid at the White House while Derek settled in with the baby. Their things had been moved over by Stiles' father with a detail for his safety so Derek was happily nesting in the room that he'd been told would suit a baby best. It didn't. He was angrily demanding supplies to baby-proof it and Stiles saw a side of him that was honestly terrifying. The staff accidentally called him 'alpha' more than once and Stiles did not correct them. He didn't have a death wish.

Stiles left them to their chaos and got himself settled, showered, and changed into a fresh suit. He was known for his colorful suits, the tamest being navy blue with a deep maroon dress shirt. He loved to stand out, but today was a stately day not a self-promotion day. He was going to be wearing his first black and white suit and he just hoped it fit since he'd had to quickly send someone out to rent it for him. It made it, but didn't have that fitted look the rest of his suits did. He debated changing into something more flattering to his figure and then changed his mind. He found Lydia who pinned him in a few spots and told him to think ahead next time.

Stiles headed for Derek who had calmed down a bit and was spooning food into Talia's demanding mouth. He was wearing a surprising outfit: a male omega dress suit. They were made to open up to nurse a baby while still fitting the fuller shoulders that male omegas had. The bottom sometimes was a skirt despite primary sex, but Derek had never liked those and was wearing a pair of trousers.

“You look handsome,” Stiles bussed his cheek lovingly, “I've never seen you wear those before?”

“I've never been nursing in a flashy event before,” Derek replied, “Talia might want a snack during your ceremony. I haven't nursed so that I have milk. It makes things so much easier than trying to feed her sticky wet food while sitting on a folding metal chair while she tries to punch the spoon.”

“Oh my gosh, she takes after you,” Stiles snickered.

“Shut up.”

They hurried out the door with Derek taking a few deep breaths before adjusting Talia in his arms and sticking close. They were extra paranoid and he had a bullet proof vest laying over their baby to protect her just in case. The event was usually filmed from the sky as well, but due to recent events they'd put up a cover over the area to reduce the threat of snipers. They'd drop the vest once they were under it.

Stiles stood at the podium and barely heard the speeches of the new Speaker for the House or his new Vice President. He barely knew her, but they had spoken over the phone during the flight. He was looking forward to working with her. She had a stunning resume and no connections to Deucalion that he could see. She was also a brand new insert to their field, the person above her having refused the job. She'd been chosen during the emergency election and had been a judge for twenty-four years. Her experience was going to mellow his youth and exuberance.

Stiles stepped up finally to shake her hand and a whole line of new people. If Duecalion had done one good thing amongst all the horrible murdering, it was to completely change the face of politics. They were no longer the country of old-white male alpha leaders. There were several women, many POC, and one shocker. There was an omega in the senate- a _single _omega, benefiting from newly passed laws- a young man with wise eyes and a soft smile that turned vicious when he was challenged. Stiles thought he was hot, but was keeping his eyes to himself. He might have the _right_ to take a second omega but no way in hell was Derek going to allow that. Stiles had plans for him that weren't sexual anyway. Plans that involved him being the first Omega president of the United States of America. He just had to find a way to take him under his wing that wasn't alphanizing.

Finally he was standing at the podium and staring out at his people. The whole thing was thrown together last minute so there were very few actual guests. Less than a million, by far. Probably only half a million. He had been offered to simply take the oath in his office like Deucalion had, but he didn't want to follow in that monster's footsteps so he'd decided to throw it out the door and throw a last-minute event instead. It had none of the flair of previous presidents, but Stiles had his own flair.

Stiles took a deep breath, glanced to the side where Derek was feeding Talia and ignoring the cameras excitedly filming that rather private activity. Perhaps Lydia had been preparing them in some way. Stiles fought down the urge to snarl at them, but did narrow his eyes when one glanced his way. They backed up a bit.

Stiles smiled at the crowd gathered, took a deep breath, and put one hand over his heart and the other over a science text book. He recited the words without hearing them. He'd known this oath since middle school and had known he would take it someday ever since he'd gotten in Derek's truck and driven out of Beacon Hills, crying for his past and future with a stranger at his side who he had no choice but to trust.

Stiles finished the oath, turned to face the podium, and waited for the cheering to subside. He had a speech written which he hadn't had much chance to practice, but had run by both Derek and Lydia as the two smartest people he knew.

“My Fellow Americans,” Stiles smiled at them, “I am usually a man of levity. I joke and tease and recite catchphrases because they make great soundbites and I'm honestly a goofball. However, I'm also a very serious politician and our country has been through a traumatic ordeal this past year. So the time for quips is past. I refer to my time as a trucker often, but today I'm going to talk about running the business. I was still an omega, so Derek was the figurehead, but I was the one making financial and executive decisions. I've often been told that running a business is not the same as running a country, and I assume that is very true. However, there is one thing about running a business and being president that absolutely does mix well. My decisions, my actions, my inactions, will effect everyone beneath me. Right now that is everyone here, but rather than allowing that power to go to my head or assume it is absolute I'd like to point out a rather important feature.

“I work for _you. _I am not your _boss_, I'm your _employee._ I've never had the opportunity to work for someone before. I went from omega in my dad's house, to student, to running Derek's company, to volunteer at poles, to various political positions, to this past year which was _madness_. There have been people in authority above me, but no one who has been my _boss_. Until now. So I will be combining this new role with those of my past. It is my solemn duty to raise up the concerns of my people and find solutions. You _are _this country, our children- my child- are the future of this country. I will make it better for them. I will make it impossible for this to happen again so that you never have to face someone you didn't choose for this role on this stand again. I may let you down, but I will never let you fall. This is me making a Radio Check,” Stiles spoke with sincerity rather than his usual joviality when making trucker references, “I'm making contact. I'm communicating with you, and I won't stop. Your wants, your needs, your country. I am your servant for the next two years, and when we vote again I will either earn this post or pass it happily to someone you choose. Thank you, America, from the bottom of my heart.”


End file.
